Diary & Ramblings of an Innocent Redhead
by rainbowrainingkitten
Summary: Ginny Weasley, 21, crazy, paranoid and unknowingly gorgeous, mixed with a diary holding her thoughts and emotions that are mainly on a 22 year old hearthrob, Harry Potter, who has fallen for her - too bad Ginny's clueless... H/G and R/Hr
1. Potter, Parents and Perfect dresses

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls while falling for Ginny...

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do!_

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. RRK

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><p><strong>Because My Heart Stops When I See Him<strong>

I completely understand.

It's fine, really, Dean, that you ditched me to run off with Cho bloody Chang. I don't mind.

Why would I mind that we've been dating for two months and out of the blue you suddenly announce you are running off with the girl that not only stole my crush away from me even though we were not technically dating at the time (Harry James Potter) and then proceeded to start crying like a baby over Cedric Whatshisface.

"I'll be going then..." he says awkwardly, his suitcase clasped tightly in his noticeably sweaty palms.

Yes, he's running away to SCOTLAND with CHO CHANG.

"Bye Dean," I reply sweetly.

Who needs him anyway? A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

But might fish want bicycles if they had legs?

I turn around in the street I'm standing in, known everywhere as Diagon Alley to see Florean Fortescue beaming at me and holding a strawberry ice cream.

He knows strawberry is my favourite. I take it from him and brandish a few Sickles but he shakes his head.

"On the house."

I smile at him, although I don't particularly feel like smiling right now, and start walking away only to bump straight into none other than someone tall, muscular and well, I can't see anything else because right now I'm sprawled on the floor with ice cream on my face.

"Watch where you're goi-" my indignant snap is cut short when I gaze up and see just who I've bumped into. None other than Harry Potter.

Yes, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and all that. The Chosen One. They have a gold plaque with his name on it in Godric's Hollow. Not that I've been looking at it or anything.

"I'm really sorry!" he exclaims, holding out a lean hand to help me up. My own are considerably sticky with ice cream right now so I don't _particularly _feel like touching his. Even though I'm sure if I did a lot of electric jolts would fizz through my body.

Even so, I let him pull me up and I know I'm blushing violently because I've realised my hair will be all over the place, I have strawberry ice cream smeared on my face and I just literally fell at his feet.

His eyes are very, very green. Emerald pools and all that. Now I can see why Romilda Vane (or should I say _Vain_) is obsessed with his every move.

I think I've died and gone to heaven.

"Are you ok?" he asks slowly, a smile beginning to form at the edges of his lips.

I don't _really _know what to say, because two things are running through my mind: his lips are very soft and kissable looking and also, his hair is very cute when messy.

"Yeah, I'm ok." I mumble, sweeping my red hair from my freckled face.

Harry Potter grins cheekily, his beautiful smile that only few are graced with (and it's certainly not Witch Weekly) and my knees buckle. Not that I'm in love with him or anything like that.

I must look like a nutter right now. He probably thinks "why why why did I have to bump into this mental frizz-haired witch?"

"I uh - better go." I mutter hastily, and I Disapperate on the spot back to my flat.

* * *

><p>I share this flat with Hermione and practically Ron seeing as he's here twenty-four seven snogging on the sofa. This is not a sight I prefer to see when I want to get my morning orange juice. It's certainly a wake-up call.<p>

Hermione is currently sitting on the sofa reading _The Bumper Book of Spells and Bewitchments _that (surprise surprise!) Ron got her for Christmas. Her wand lies on the pillow next to her and her hair is strangely dishevelled.

"Hi Ginny, Ron's in the shower. He's made coffee." Hermione says his without blushing and looking up from her book; I am impressed.

"I know you've been shagging." I smirk, causing Hermione's head to snap up from her book.

"Excuse me?" she says sharply, and I see two pink spots appear on her cheeks.

"Don't deny it, every morning I come in here and your hair is more bushy than usual, plus Ron is always using the shower which can I just say is gross because he uses ALL my conditioner." I grin.

Why does Ron even use conditioner? His hair always looks the same to me. It doesn't smell very nice either.

Hermione quickly goes back to her book and I pour myself some coffee and reminisce over the morning's events.

Other than bumping into Harry Potter and making a complete and utter idiot out of myself, I also got an earful from Mum. She's very emotional now all her children have left home, and just the smallest thing like forgetting to collect George's little brat Fred and taking him to the Burrow deserves a lecture.

As I ponder this Hermione pulls a little brown paper bag from her pretty to-die-for handbag and hurries into the bathroom as Ron has just come out and casually ignored me on his way to Hermione's room to dress.

George went and married Angelina, and Fred decided he had fallen for Katie Bell. Surprise surprise he named his little brat George. Together they are the worst two little _monsters _I have ever come across in my entire life.

"Gin? Ginny!" Hermione squeaks. "Ginny!"

She's coming out from the bathroom now holding two white sticks. I scrunch my face up.

"What, Hermione?" I ask, gulping down some of the hot beverage.

She waves the sticks impatiently in front of my face and but no realisation dawns on me. Why would I be interested in some white sticks?

"Hermione, I can see you are holding two white sticks." I say calmly. She might be crazier than me.

"Don't you understand what this means? I'm PREGNANT!" she shrieks happily.

My breath hitches in my throat. Hermione Granger, bookworm, goody-goody, know-it-all best friend, PREGNANT?

Sweet Lord Voldemort. (Scratch that, Voldemort and sweet should never be used in the same sentance. Ever.)

"That's brilliant!" I smile, because I know Hermione wants a little baby girl called Rose Ginevra Weasley which typically she has had planned since the age of six.

I can't wait to see the dazed look on Ron's face when he finds out. It will be a beautiful moment.

"You'd better have some Calming Draught ready when dear Ronald finds out," I warn her, before being enclosed in a tight hug. Hermione smells like books and cookies.

"Good luck!" I smirk, before walking out of the flat to go to buy some dresses for the upcoming Reunion Ball of all Hogwarts students aged from nineteen to twenty two. Mum practically had a heart attack when she found out and suddenly Ron was being swaddled in frilly dress robes from the year 1935.

I'm just about to enter _Charming_, the grudgingly gorgeous shop that Phlegm owns. Most of the dresses there are made from Veela silk which has special Veela magic threaded into it, which hopefully will make me look more ravishing than crazy-redhead girl.

"Ginee! It iz zo wonderful to ze you, I 'ave been thinking about making a new drezz for you and yesterday I finished it!" Fleur (Phlegm) declares proudly.

"Yes?" I enthuse, whilst mentally crossing my fingers it won't be some hideous bright pink concoction that Dolores Umbitch would be proud of.

Fleur produces a simple black tube, shiny and sleek that will quite clearly hug every curve and cling to each slender part of your body.

I love it.

Wait...Harry Potter is going to be at the Ball. What if he sees me? I can just see the headlines now "Crazy Redhead Ambushes Chosen One in Diagon Alley".

I bet he's told his GIRLFRIEND about me and how mentally disturbed I am.

If he has one. Which I bet he has, because nobody that gorgeous doesn't have an equally gorgeous girlfriend.

_Oh yeah, _said my subconsious, _then why isn't it plastered all over this week's edition of Witch Weekly then?_

I hate my subconsious. It argues with me.

"Ginnee?" Fleur waves a elaborately manicured hand in front of my face.

"It's gorgeous," I tell her with a shaky smile.

Annoyingly, Fleur who has one child, Victoire, has sustained her curvy figure - however my mother is now as straight as a plank. She notes resentfully. Or not.

Sometimes I do not see what Bill sees in Fleur. She might be kind "SOMETIMES" but is still a conceited stuck-up totally-undeserving of her beauty-

"I zall wrap it up for you." she says with a radiant beam, cutting my thoughts short.

While I wait for her, my thoughts drift back to Harry Potter. _Please, _I beg, _don't let him go to The Prophet and tell them what a clumsy psycho I am! Fred and George will never let me forget it._

I brush my stupid red hair from my face impatiently and shoot the pile of magazines on the glass table dirty looks.

Cho Chang is waving and simpering on the front page, Dean next to her. They've made the bloody front page all because Cho used to be a Appleby Arrows player and had people monitering her every move so now they are making a stupid deal out of the fact she's taken off with Dean Thomas, the biggest git in the whole world. He forgot my birthday.

I hate him.

My thoughts are rudely interrupted when Ron enters the shop looking dazed and slightly ecstatic - I'm guessing he's learnt the news.

"I can't believe YOU are going to be a dad." I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

"WHAT?" he says in total shock.

Uh-oh...

I think I just spilt the beans before they'd already been spilt.

Time to run.

* * *

><p><strong>Review please and next chapter soon. Hope it wasn't too OOC but if so, that's what Fanfiction is for anyway!<strong>

RRK


	2. Damsels, Disasters and Discovered Dads

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls while falling for Ginny...

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

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><p>Some people might know running is not my best talent.<p>

Quidditch, certainly, but running? No. I get a bright red face like radishes and loose my breath after two minutes.

But I can always outrun my brothers. You have to, when you're at the tender age of six and they ambush you because one of them catches you telling their girlfriends what they're _really _like.

I'm huffing and puffing like a damn Hufflepuff right now, and my feet are causing splashes of mud to leap up and smack me in the face.

I chance a glance behind me and see a scarlet-faced Ron, hair dishevelled and windswept, tie askew, (yes ladies and gents, RON wears a tie. He's an Auror) and gasping out my name every five seconds.

The streets, dotted with a few inquisitive witches and wizards, are aquaintanced with the sun and the stretch of magnificent turquoise blue roams across, shining so brightly if Harry Potter was here his glasses would cause a fire.

Not that I'm thinking about him, or anything.

Hermione is going to murder me. If Ron doesn't catch me first.

I whirl around into a corner and I'm getting ready to experience the slightly uncomfortable and unsatisfactory feeling of Disapperating when a hand clamps over my mouth and two strong hands clasp me to a waist.

I do the first thing any vunerable girl would do; I bite him. And hard, so it isn't surprising I draw blood.

"Hell, Weasel!" snarls a shrill voice that makes my heart sink. It's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, who has somehow taken a very, very unfortunate liking to me.

"What the hell do you want?" I snap, turning around.

His shirt is not tucked in properly and all over the place, greasy blonde hair, a trademark of all Malfoys, is gelled neatly into place (if you ask me, so boring) and cold, bleak grey eyes piercing me. Wrinkles define his bony face.

"A snog."

My hand reaches out instinctively and before I know it he has a huge red slap mark on his ugly face.

"It's an improvement," I mutter, drawing my wand. "Stay away before I hex you into the next century, and it will hurt too."

"Watch your pretty little mouth." is his curt retort.

"We'll see just whose pretty in a minute, Malf-"

Just as one of my famous bat-bogey hexes is ready to be unfurled, a masculine voice breaks into our little "meeting" and I jump.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

Harry Potter, once again, has come and disrupted my not-so-wonderful life. Now he must think I'm a crazy-neurotic redhead/damsel in distress that can't defend herself against the slimy likes of Draco Stuck-Up Malfoy.

"Oh look, Potter, precious Potter, who saved the world and got no girl, swans around like some sort of superstar-"

After these comments, I do not think that what I do next is undeserved. True, using a Stunning spell on someone and then turning their hair red and gold (Gryffindor colours) is slightly mean, however that's me.

"Thanks, but I can defend myself." I choke out, my eyes meeting his for the second time in one day.

His eyes are spilling with amusement as he says "I'm sure you can."

"Ginny! Ginny!"

Ron's desperate cries cause panic to flood through my petite form and without thinking I grab Harry's grey t-shirt and pull it as hard as I can into the corner so Ron won't see us.

And now I'm acutely aware that my fingers are centimetres away from those rock-hard abs. Great, now I'm fantasising about his washboard abs.

Why would HARRY POTTER be interested in me? Don't touch Ginny!

"I'm guessing you're hiding from someone. Ex-boyfriend?" asks Harry, whose face is twisted into one of amusement and curiousity.

"Curiosity killed the cat, but no." the words tumble out of my mouth as waves of nausea overcome me at the thought of kissing Ron.

I feel my stupid, unattractive blush flooding my cheeks, but Harry's clearly smirking as he says "I'm no cat, Ginny."

_Ginny. He called you by your name. _Don't be stupid Ginny, it doesn't mean anything.

"With those eyes, you could be one." I blurt out like an idiot. So now I've offended him, almost touched his abs and tripped at his feet in one day.

Fabulous.

His chuckle is infectious and I bite back my laughter. "If he isn't an ex, a relative? Your hair is very distinctive and I doubt there are many girls with hair this amaz-"

Whatever adjective he was about to use never reaches me because an angry-looking Ron is now standing in front of us, cheeks flushed with the mild cold, hair tousled, eyes registering shock and tinted with flecks of black that only show when he's feeling a strong emotion.

Crap.

* * *

><p>I'm inclined to believe this wasn't <em>really <em>exactly specifically basically my fault.

Ron is a drama queen. I can't help it if I made a _little _mistake. Cut me some slack - I'm the girl Fred and George tested their pranks on until I got my wand!

Now he's jumping up and down with Hermione and stating the obvious "I'm a dad!"

Why she fell in love with him, I am curious to know.

Mum is crying with joy - she's already attempted ladling tea into mugs and spilt it all over Dad's Muggle jeans.

If this kid is anything like Ron I sincerely hope I will not be expected to babysit it.

I hug Hermione, pat Ron on the back in a sisterly fashion and allow Mum to plant several wet kisses on my cheek.

"Hermione! I have lots of maternity clothes for you, oh, and books too, and toys, and tips! No more coffee, or late nights, or anything like that! Ronald Weasley, you will look after this girl while she is carrying your child to the best of your ability! And don't let her get stressed!" Mum shrieked, her voice reaching nasal pitch.

I smirk at the terrified look on Ron's face and Disapperate back to the flat where a conjured black coffee and some fretting over my tryouts for the Holyhead Harpies await me.

* * *

><p>Tomorrow morning, eight 'o' clock, Gwenog Jones will be watching me launch Quaffles into the goal. Along with all the other teammates who coincidentally have names beginning with "G" which gives me a fantastic head start.<p>

This is _my _chance to show Harry Potter I'm not a weird, crazy redhead but a talented witch.

Not that he'll watch or anything, because he doesn't like me. He probably still likes Cho Chang even though she's in Scotland snogging my ex-boyfriend or he fancies Romilda Vane because she's laced his spaghetti Bolognese with love potion.

I swallow a healthy amount of coffee and flick through this week's edition of _Flight_, the Quidditch magazine not really absorbing the information.

Pictures of Harry Potter on his new Firebolt jump out from the vibrant outlandish coloured pages and nuggets of gossip on his current dating status (which has NOTHING to do with a Quidditch magazine) catch my eye.

It's a load of rubbish on how he's certainly eligible (much to Romilda Vane's disgust) and all those feeling-lucky witches out there that have their eye on him should be crowded around Quality Quidditch Supplies because that's where he likes to shop for his brooms and gloves and Quaffles.

I sigh exasperatedly, switch off the kettle with a _click _and retire to my bedroom (lime-green and plastered with posters of Dumbledore's Army, Luna, Hermione, my family, the Holyhead Harpies, Dean - that one I plan to rip into shreds and send anonymously to him in an envelope - and the new Firebolt) where I flop onto my bed.

Beauty sleep? I'm already gorgeous yeah right.

My eyes start to droop and I find myself wrapped into a delicious much-needed sleep.

* * *

><p>I wake up at quarter to eight feeling lazy and reasonably refreshed until my memory jolts and I realise Gwenog will be expecting me in fifteen minutes sharp.<p>

A quick shower in which I barely manage to wash the soap suds from my hair and then I'm dressing in my Quidditch gear, summoning my broomstick and pocketing my wand before Disapperating to the Harpies' training ground.

"Two minutes early, nice work." praises Gwenog, her bushy eyebrows knotted together. "Impressive, Weasley. Gloria, show her the ropes. And fetch a couple of Quaffles, would you. The other two we're trying out, Harmony Clove and Gracie Harte are changing."

Gwenog Jones looks around thirty, with sleek, ruler-straight chestnut brown hair and warm but stern blue eyes. Her lumpy Quidditch gear hides her loss of figure and emphasises her toned muscles.

Gloria Gawenway, Chaser, who is about my age with gleaming caramel-blonde hair swept into a tight bun and has spindly lack lashes dipped in mascara, gives me a friendly smile and raises a hand, gesturing to the huge pitch.

"First thing you should know is Gwenog won't take crap from anybody, so you need to be here on time every two days, three if we have a big game coming up," announces Gloria with a brief smile, "and she won't tolerate tardiness. One strike and you're on probation, two and the reserve takes your place for the next two games. Tough but she has a good heart."

I nod but I can feel my heart thumping madly and eyes widening slightly like a greedy kid being shown a sweet shop.

"Training is every two days, like I said, and that's Monday, Thursday and Sunday. Gwenog wants each and every player devoted to the team so if anything starts to distract you the chances are you won't play as well. That will NOT go down well with Gwenog." Gloria continues briskly, waving her hands for effect.

"We practise from eight each morning on the said days until twelve when you go for lunch in the Harpies' own cafeteria and your diet is monitered - we had a player snacking on cakes and sticky buns last year and she ended up hitting Bludgers at half the team because she couldn't keep her balance." says the experienced Chaser, raising her eyebrows. "But you look quite slender, so that shouldn't be a problem."

It takes me about a minute to digest all this information, and by this time she's handing me a broom and flashing me encouraging smiles. "Gwenog's soft side comes out on the newbies, but she will speak her mind so don't burst into tears if she's a bit harsh. Despite her flaws she's the best captain I've ever had." Gloria's enthusiastic words boost my confidence a little and I take my broom.

Kicking off feels exhilerating, as the wonderfully familiar feeling of being weightless, hair flapping in the warm breeze, air brushing against my fingers comes flooding back.

I clasp the Quaffle tightly, palms sweating and swiftly fly over to the hoops. The team's Keeper, Gina Belby, has a skeptical look on her concealed face as she darts between the three brown circles I'm aiming for.

Luck is with me as I launch the bronze ball into the hoop, Gina nipping over to the entirely wrong one. I grin confidently and my next ball neatly makes an arc as it shoots through.

* * *

><p>"Never seen such a naturally talented player in my life," says Gwenog slowly, producing a heavy hand for me to shake. I oblige, a victorious grin upon my face.<p>

Harmony Clove and Gracie Harte exchange sour looks as they are gently critisized by Gwenog (Gracie scored one out of six goals and Harmony three out of six).

"You have the job." Gwenog says smoothly. "Harmony is reserve and you, Ginny, are going to be third Chaser. Congratulations."

My heart soars and my feelings of elation increase as the ecstatic, triumphant glow overwhelms me.

"Thank you, Ms. Jones," I beam, but blush as she corrects me.

"Gwenog. We're practically colleagues now." is her kind retort.

Hermione is going to be thrilled.

"Holyhead Harpies!" she squeals. "Oh Ginny, Baby Rose is soooo pleased for you!"

"Already named it then?" I smirk, amused.

"It! She!" scolds Hermione, caressing the small curve of her stomach.

"Had a test then?" I ask. Hermione doesn't seem like the sort to, but you never know!

We're sitting at the kitchen table of our homey flat with hot mugs of milk for Hermione and a black coffee for me which she is eyeing up. Mum has dumped a truckload of maternity clothes on her which she is taking advantage of now - I can't say I like the eyesore that is a loose blue jumper and a pair of soft white combats but Hermione is glowing with radiance - Fleur would be proud.

Fleur! The dress! I forgot to pick it up yesterday after Ron started chasing me!

I slam my coffee mug down absent mindedly and black liquid slops over the oak table. "Scourgify!" I grimace, pointing my wand at the mess. It immediately disappears and I dump the mug into the sink.

"Gin? You ok?" Hermione pipes up.

"Yes, I didn't pick up the Veela dress Fleur bought me." I say resentfully. If only stupid Ron hadn't made me tell him his wife was pregnant!

"I could do it," offers Hermione helpfully, "I have a free day, pretty much, and I want to pick out some of my own pregnancy books as well. There's a very good one called _What to Expect When You're Expecting _and some special diet books.

"Could you? That would be brilliant, thanks Herms." I smirk at the name that Fred and George bestowed upon her when in one of their particularly amusing moods.

"Herms? I am NOT an owl!" explodes Hermione, scowling. Pregnancy hormones. Beware.

"I know." I grin, shoot her an apologetic look and go to sort out my hair.

Surprisingly, it looks considerably nice today. Instead of sticking up at all angles, it's flowing in gentle waves down my back and blends well with the skinny jeans and tight red tube I'm wearing.

"GINNY!" comes Hermione's yell from the other room. I run in and can't resist my smirk.

She has managed to get her hand stuck into the money box that the SPEW funds are stored in.

After I have helped my sister-in-law out, she huffs and goes to pick up the dress while I Apparate to the Burrow to see Teddy and Victoire. Tonks is a good friend and so she regularly brings her kids round.

"You're pwetty." Teddy whispers happily to his cute red-headed friend, who smiles.

"Mummy, mwe love Tweddy, can we take him home wiw us?" she asks Fleur, who smiles beautifully.

"No ma cherie, Teddy 'as 'is own mozer and fazer, but you zee 'im mozt days anyway." she says in her fluent French accent.

Victoire looks sad and nods, but when Teddy plants a chaste, sloppy looking kiss on her rosy cheek she turns scarlet and throws her arms around him.

Young love indeed.

"Ginny, darling, could you help me prepare? I've invited Harry Potter to come to Ron's twenty third birthday party which is tomorrow and I haven't gotten any of the food done-" Mum is cut short by my reply.

"Harry Potter? You invited _Harry Potter _to Ron's party?" I breathe, almost speechless.

So now he's going to think I'm even more of a nutter than he does now when something goes drastically wrong involving me and a disaster.

Thanks a bunch, Mum.


	3. Luna, Lies and Lustful Lamenting

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls while falling for Ginny...

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me. Also, Ron and Hermione have been married a year and yes I certainly wouldn't have a baby at twenty two but considering Molly had Bill at eighteen I doubt she would have been very concerned, but this is how my story played out, ok?

* * *

><p>"Ow!"<p>

"Ginevra, honestly, that's the fourth time you've cut yourself with the potato peeler."

"Thanks for the sympathy, Mum."

"I'm a _dad_! A _dad_!"

"Oh put a cork in it Ron!"

"Ginevra!"

"Sorry Mum."

This is the not-so-interesting tale that is my life. Getting four cuts from a potato peeler and listening to your brother rant joyously about how he's a father.

"Grrr! This stupid potato won't peel!" I growl angrily, glaring at the shrivelled brown lump that will soon be part of a potato salad.

"Ginny, why don't you help make the punch? It's my special cranberry and peach fizz. Let's hope-" Mum shoots a dark look at Fred and George, who are smirking at their "offspring" who are currently experimenting with Bill's coffee and some Puking Pastilles, "-this time nobody spikes it."

"Fine." I grumble, sucking on my lightly bleeding finger. Mum points to a crumpled, dog-eared yellowed sheet of paper on which some messy handwriting is scrawled.

"First add two cans of cranberry extract and mix vigorously with lemonade." I mumble, scanning the slip of paper.

"Inny! Inny! Inny!" Inny is Teddy's cute name for me seeing as he can't quite say "Ginny" and thankfully not "Ginevra" (who gives their child such a 'exquisite' name?).

"Hey Teds, what you up to?" I grin as my godson (yes, Tonks made me his godmother and Harry his godfather. This resulted in a lot of merciless teasing from my delightful twin brothers) comes scampering into the room holding a brand new doll that until I last checked belonged to Victoire.

"Vicwar gave me hwer dwolly. I don't knwow what to give her in return." says Teddy sadly, brandishing the blonde haired plastic contraption.

"Give her a kiss." I suggest wickedly, ruffling his now red hair. Teddy changes his hair to red whenever he visits the Burrow which I find quite lovable.

"Ewww!" Teddy squeals with the adorable maturity of a two year old.

"Victoire will like it." I persist, relieved to have found a distraction from making Mum's extravagant punch recipe.

"Ow-kay, if you're swure." Teddy nods nervously.

"Remember Victoire is very little, she might want her dolly back at some point." points out Mum, but Teddy just smiles wolfishly and runs off to give Victoire her present.

"Back to helping, Ginny." Mum says sternly.

"Ron isn't helping! He's staring at Hermione's stomach like a gormless idiot!" I protest, summoning a punch jug and some ingredients with my wand.

"Ronald! Come and help your sister." Mum orders, giving the chicken a suspicious glance. "This is slightly undercooked. Ron, could you be a love and sort out the salad? It's Caesar, your favourite, but the chicken isn't ready yet. I'm going to put some fresh tablecloths down."

Ron scowls, kisses Hermione's flushed pink cheeks and scrambles up to help me. I flash him a smug smile.

Then it hits me. I haven't bought Ron a birthday present yet!

Panic rises and I feel the colour drain from my face, trying to remember how much money I have. Mum paid me two Galleons for de-gnoming the lawn six times and sorting out the washing...another one for babysitting Victoire when she needed to go shopping...

I have three Galleons to buy my brother a birthday present. This is not good news.

"I...uh...need the toilet." I improvise, inspired although it wasn't the most original of lies.

"Go." Mum says briskly, scooping up a pile of cream coloured cloths to spread out on the five tables she'd gotten Dad to set up outside.

Each table has its own umbrella and the cloths, typically of my organised Mum, match the umbrellas.

I scurry out, making sure my wand is still tucked safely in my pocket and breathe out once I have escaped outside.

"_Accio _Firebolt!" I exclaim, waving my wand. Immediately a gorgeous chocolate brown broomstick comes zooming out of nowhere and I hop on, travelling a few miles over to Luna Lovegood's house. Luna is an amazing friend you could count on for everything and anything.

I look warily at the signs warning me off the derigible plums and now a new one has sprouted up saying "CRUMPLE-HORNED SNORKACK SEASON IS IN TWO WEEKS! START PACKING NOW!"

I knock carefully on the door and lock my eyes onto it. Suddenly it creaks open and Luna is standing there wearing a bizarre yellow dress with a fluffy white cardigan and some spiky blue boots with small heels. She's brushed her hair into braids and stuffed a red beret over them.

"Oh, hello Ginny. I would love to go to Diagon Alley with you to buy your brother a belated birthday present." she says happily, adjusting her beret.

"How did you know?" I inquire, not bothering to hide my obvious shock at my own transparency (or her "Inner Eye").

"Oh, just intuition." Luna answers serenely. "Let's go, Daddy wants me to get him some Nestling Blibberer repellent, the acid from their bites is fatal."

I smile at her quirky sentance, spoken in her pleasureable dreamy voice and unlike some people (cough cough Ron) I am not embarrassed to be seen with Luna at all. She's proud of her individuality, her unique quirks, her ability to express herself like nobody else.

I leave my broomstick nestled in the bushes (NOT the derigible plum one, mind) and we Disapperate and land in the middle of the street.

I start. I'm lying on something hard, muscular and lean. Whatever it is, it broke my fall.

Luna has already scrambled up and is giving me little smiles. I frown.

Wondering why she's smiling, I look down and almost shriek my head off, because I'm lying on top of a black haired green eyed bespecticled Quidditch player, AKA the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Save-Us-All.

I imagine my cheeks are as flaming red as my hair as I feel the heat rush to them and Luna helps me up, giggling.

"Sorry, my Disapperation skills need refreshing..." I apologise, biting my glossy lip.

"It's...ok..." he groans, slowly getting up off the floor with a weak smile that buckles my knees.

People are staring and pointing, not bothering to supress their giggles and amused looks. Romilda Vane and a couple of her cronies pass by.

"She practically threw herself at him, how pathetic!" snorts Romilda, throwing me a dirty, jealous look.

"Cow." I mutter, brushing myself free of crumbly dirt.

Harry Potter is giving me a heart-warming smile. "Look, Ginny, I've been wanting to tell you something since yesterday-"

Just as I'm mentally preparing myself for "you're a crazy weird redhead and please stop following me like a stalker including knocking me over in alleyways", my stomach churning in anticpation, Draco Malfoy diverts my attention.

"It's the Boy-Who-Got-Lucky!" he sneers. "Oh, and look, it's Weasley! Come with me Weasley, I'll show you a real man!"

Disgusted and revolted, I draw my wand and wave it threateningly before replying "Dear, dear Malfoy, I'll never forget the first time we met, but rest assured I'll keep trying. Now you slimy little worm, why don't you go and bug some other girl that gives a damn."

Draco's contempt-filled sneer changes to one of indignance.

"Let's go, Luna." I add, tugging on her soft cardigan. She keeps her feet, safely enclosed in the attention-seeking spiky boots firmly on the same spot.

"Harry was saying something," Luna can barely keep the excitement and smirk out of her voice as my cheeks turn even redder like cherries.

"That's ok," Harry says quickly, "I'll see you tomorrow, Ginny. And you, Luna."

Then he hurries off, leaving me confused.

"He likes you." Luna says matter-of-factly as we trudge up to a shop that says "Bedazzling Bewitched Gifts" and enter cautiously.

It's a gorgeous shop, if slightly bizarre. The wallpaper is a mesmorising sparkly blue, and attached to the ceiling is an entranced disco-ball with glowing lights. It's playing jolly party music, belting it out at full volume.

There are various different items, like "Runaway Gingerbread Men" and "Gnome Repellent", a foul smelling mixture that is pink and has multi-coloured spots dotted inside.

The clerk behind the desk is chewing on a ham and pickle sandwich, absorbed in _The Prophet _whilst darting his eyes towards me and Luna suspiciously.

"Ooh, they have something called "Popcorn"!" squeals Luna. "Maybe it's corn that pops out of nowhere! I'm going to buy some for Ron's birthday."

I smirk at this before surveying the other gifts. Lots of things catch my eye but I want to find something Ron will really enjoy.

"How about these?" suggests Luna, pointing to what looks like a packet of Muggle playing cards but with food on them.

"Ron doesn't really like cards." I admit, giving the packet a quick glance.

"No, they're Edible Food Cards," explains Luna dreamily, "each card has a different food on it and you eat the card. Whatever food is printed on the card is what it will taste like."

"Ron will love those!" I exclaim, snatching them up and inspecting the price. "One Galleon. Brilliant. I'll get him three."

Luna grins triumphantly and pays for her "popcorn", chatting up the clerk in her own little way. He eyeballs her warily and seems quite relieved when we leave his shop.

"Let's go home and wrap them." Luna says happily, clutching her purchase. "I'll come back tomorrow and get some of this popcorn for Daddy. Maybe it will attract some Blibbering Humdingers."

I raise my eyebrows good-naturedly as we Apparate to the Burrow. It has been transformed.

The lawn is literally covered in decor and furnishings. The tables and their umbrellas have been washed and polished until they gleam, chairs have been set out with the best cushions, the garden has been de-gnomed and Crookshanks is currently chasing away any curious mice.

Inside smells wonderfully and mouthwateringly of different foods - Caesar salad, chicken legs, jelly, lettuce, tomatoes, potato salad, mini eclairs, ice cold pitchers of pumpkin juice, lemonade, brownies, cupcakes, biscuits, cheescake, sandwiches and fruit salad.

Mum is wiping her sweaty brow in angst, Ron flapping helplessly around the kitchen and Fred II and George II are giggling together, probably plotting their next evil scheme.

"GINEVRA WEASLEY! I TURN MY BACK FOR TWO SECONDS AND YOU DISAPPEAR TO DO GOD KNOWS WHAT GOD KNOWS WHERE! RONALD! DO NOT TOUCH THAT FOOD!"

Mum's shriek pierces my ears and I pull a guilty face. Luna with her impeccable timing decides it's time for her to go home so she Disapperates leaving me alone with my livid mother.

"I uh...um..."

"I am very disappointed in you, Ginevra. Please go to your room." Mum says in an angry yet quiet tone.

I obey, pulling a face as I do so and slump up the stairs grumpily.

I freeze when I enter and lay my eyes upon the bed because when I do, I see a small turquoise blue box with a white ribbon attached sitting on it.

This could either a be a romantic gesture (with my luck probably from Draco Malfoy) or one of Fred and George's (or their little brats') tricks.

I creep up next to the box and my fingers twitch eagerly. The temptation is overwhelming and I open the box only for a load of blue powder to blow up into my face.

"FRED! GEORGE! GET YOUR SORRY ASSES INTO MY ROOM RIGHT NOW!" I yell furiously, trying my best to scrub the powder off.

Two guilty but victorious looking faces peep around my bedroom door. It's the oh-so wonderful idiots I call brothers.

"Hey Gin! How's life treating you?" Fred asks cheerfully.

"Would be better," I snarl over George's sniggers, "if two stupid morons hadn't put this box on my bed. I _wonder _who would do such a thing."

My sarcastic remark triggers a peal of laughter from the two pranksters.

"_Battus mucosa_!" I shriek, my wand pointing directly at Fred. He gulps, eyes bulging comically in shock before collapsing on the ground as giant flying bat-bogies attack his not-amused face.

George takes one look at Fred and me before attempting to scurry off however I shoot a quick Jelly-Legs hex at him and he too falls to the floor.

Smirking, I leave them like that until I find the heart to use "Finite Incantatem".

It's a while.

* * *

><p>The next morning wrenching my eyes open is difficult because of two things - one, I am not used to sleeping in my childhood room and the bed is not as comfortable as the one in the new flat, and two, I really need the usual smell of black coffee to awaken me properly enough to prowl into the kitchen and grab a mug.<p>

The air smells deliciously of orange juice and bacon. I can hear the roaring of the shower (probably Ron getting ready) as well as the sweet chorus of the bluebirds nestling outside my bedroom window.

I reluctantly force myself up, run a brush through my impossible wavy red locks and stomp downstairs with as much of a happy smile as I can muster.

"Ginevra darling," Mum says curtly, "your breakfast is lying on the table. I want you ready by twelve because the guests come at one. Would you wake Hermione for me after you've eaten, please?"

I smile nervously and chew gormlessly at my meal - crisp, oily bacon tinged with pink, shiny, rubbery egg and soggy brown toast. Mum has made me a mug of milky tea, not my first choice but I know better than to argue with her.

"Charlie made the punch," she continues crisply, "it was...interesting. I just hope our guests do not get food poisoning."

I smile meekly at her.

After dashing upstairs and taking a long, luxurious shower, I decide obeying Mum is better than not so I do what I have been told and pick out a dress - a red one that ties around one shoulder and scrunches (ends) above the knee.

Hermione insists that she does my hair and amazingly manages to make it cascade in silky waves like a waterfall. She also shoves mascara, eyeliner and lipgloss on me until I feel like Lavender Brown.

By twelve thirty Mum is still fussing and Fred brings up his old threat of putting her in a body-bind curse. She scolds him but this doesn't deter her from fretting.

Ron appears in a suit (!) which is black and grudgingly reasonably nice. Hermione then puts us all to shame wearing a black dress with thick straps and matching heels. Her hair is glossy, silky and has a attractive sheen to it.

"You look beautiful," I tell her truthfully and she smiles prettily.

"So do you. Luna tells me Harry Potter has a crush on you." she winks, making me flush a delicate pink.

"That's crap. He probably fancies the pants off Cho Chang." I scoff.

"She said there was 'frisson' and 'chemistry' between you two." teases Hermione, and my blush darkens.

"You know Luna, always making stuff like that up." I insist.

"If you say so." Hermione nods, smirks and suddenly jumps as there is a knock on the door and several guests have arrived: Tonks, Lupin, Teddy, Fleur, Bill, Victoire and Hagrid.

Whilst small talk is being upheld and tipbits of food snatched, I glance nervously at the door. When Harry Potter walks in here I think I might just die.

However he is "fashionably late" as Dad would say, and gradually I begin to relax and enjoy the party.

Beautifully parcelled packages appear for Ron, some bulky, some smooth and hard. He swallows eagerly and I can see his clean fingers hovering near the piles of presents.

I'm about to talk to Neville when suddenly there is a short, clear rap on the door. Mum smiles and hurries over, opening it earnestly.

My face matches my dress as Harry walks in, puts his large present on the pile and greets everyone with a smile or a wave, occasionally a hug - he's not really a touchy-feely person.

Please, please, do NOT let me make a fool out of myself...


	4. Birthdays, Butterbeer and bloody Romilda

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

* * *

><p>Ginevra Molly Weasley! Get a grip on yourself! Harry SMILED at you, he didn't exactly declare his hypothetical undying love for you, did he? No. Then stop being an idiot!<p>

I gingerly bite into a moist, warm cookie and take a quick survey of the room. Harry Potter is being crowded by a bunch of old Hogwarts students (WHO INVITED ROMILDA VANE?) and Mum is busy chatting to Xenophilius Lovegood, who is wearing some blue silk robes with suns embroidered all over and his ghostly white face is creased into a jolly smile.

"Hi Ginny."

It's none other than Michael Corner, my first boyfriend. His usually boring brown hair has a rebellious red streak in the middle and he's gelled it into a kiss curl paired with a plain red shirt and ripped jeans.

"Michael..." I murmur, blushing because if I remember correctly, I accused him of being a sore loser and a sulking brat.

"Taking the news well, then?" he asks smoothly, placing a cold hand on my bare vanilla shoulder. Horrible sharp shudders scuttle down my spine.

"What news?" I scowl, my sandwich getting penalised as I tighten the grip on it.

"About Cho," he swallows, "and Dean." this is followed by him rubbing his hand up and down my shoulder, which needless to say I do NOT like.

"Yeah, I didn't like Dean in that way after a while." I shrug, moving slightly as a implied way of telling him to move his hand off my shoulder or there will be trouble ahead.

"Pass me some punch, will you?" he commands, caressing the warm skin.

"I'll give you some punch, of _course_." I smile sweetly, disguising my anger and reach out for Mum's punch bowl before tipping the entire contents, fruit and all over his head.

There's a gasp and I realise (holding back a smirk) everybody's eyes are locked on me.

"Ginevra." Mum says angrily, "_Ginevra_!"

Michael Corner, who is looking appalled, frustrated and very sticky, storms off into the darkness.

"NEXT TIME HIT ON SOMEONE WHO'S INTERESTED!" I yell after him.

Absorbing the looks on the crowds' faces, I am amused to see Harry Potter smirking, Ron laughing so hard he can hardly breathe and Hermione's jaw almost touching the ground.

* * *

><p>After I have apologised sincerely to my mother and promised never to do such a thing again, the party resumes and now everyone is coupling off.<p>

I sigh melodramatically and seat myself down under one of the umbrellas (a green one) and am gazing absently into the stars until a certain encounter reaches my ears.

"Oh Harry _darling, _I've pictured this moment for years...you, me, the stars...and dancing."

Did I ever mention to you how much I hate Romilda Vane? Because I do. My loathing for her is so strong nobody could really blame me for firing some bat-bogey hexes at her, could they?

Maybe just two? One?

"Uh...Romilda...we aren't...you know..._dating._" Harry's masculine, deep voice holds wary and, if I'm not just hearing what I want to hear, uncertainty.

"Only a matter of time, Harry-kins." _Harrykins. HARRYKINS?_

"Romilda, I actually like someone els-"

"Let's dance, gorgeous, before some other girl snaps you up!" Romilda's giggling now, flicking her dark curls around as if they are the crown jewels.

I watch sourly as she drags him to where everyone else is dancing and starts wiggling her wide hips in what I'm guessing she thinks is seductively.

Fighting a strong desire to snort and eager to maintain all my dignity, I decide not to stay out here like a dateless loner and start to go inside like a wallflower.

"Ginny."

Surprised, I turn, my eyes seeking the owner of the voice that spoke my name. They fix onto two pleading emerald pools.

Romilda is shooting me death looks so I give her an innocent smile and send Harry a questioning look.

"Didn't you...um...ask me to dance?" he says firmly, the plea noticeable in his tone.

_Dance with Harry Potter? My crush of eight long fruitless years?_

"Oh yeah, I did." I manage to stutter out. He's probably thinking _what a strange mental witch with crazy hair_.

"But _we're _dancing, Harrykins." moans Romilda childishly, stomping her foot - this is _not _a good idea as she is wearing bright pink high heels and they sink into the thick clumps of mud.

"Later." Harry resolves the situation quickly and grabs my wrists. They tingle.

"Do you know how to dance?" I smirk, awkwardness forgotten.

"Well...sort of," admits Harry, "I learnt to slow dance from my first girlfriend and to waltz, but I'm not the best..."

Astonished at how easy he is to talk to, I let him place a hand on my waist (WOW) and another on my back.

"I wanted to tell you something," he says slowly, warm breath on my cheek and the faint scent of his cologne drifting towards me, sweet and dry, "and for a while now I've been harbouring it up-"

Before he breaks my heart and tells me (as I know he's going to do) he fancies Romilda not me and would appreciate it if I'd stop following him, we're interrupted and a look of pure frustration appears on his face.

"Harry, a gang of girls who say they are from your fan club are being very insistent, they keep firing jinxes at Bill because he won't let them in-"

Ron's timid report is cut short by an angry snort from Harry.

"-they're always bothering me! I'm sorry Ginny, wait for me?" he says quickly before hurrying off to deal with the Fan Club Posse.

I sigh although I have escaped a heavy verbal bashing and help myself to some refreshingly cold pumpkin juice.

Hermione seems to be enjoying herself, sipping at some water whilst chatting to Luna, who is also eyeing up Rolf Scamander.

"What was that all about?" Ron's nosy nature breaks into my thoughts and I scowl.

"None of your business Ronald."

"Gin, it's not nothing when your childhood crush wants to talk to you, is it? Merlin and I thought I took a long time telling Hermione I fancied her!"

"This isn't you and Hermione, Ron, I barely knew him in Hogwarts and it's not like he's concealing a secret undying love for me, is it?" I retort.

"Whatever Gin. Listen, we're going to cut the cake now so why don't you come inside? I can see it's not just Potter ogling you in that dress!" Ron's blunt remark causes me to flare up.

"What are you suggesting? It's too revealing?"

"Stop being so grouchy! It's my birthday." Ron reminds me, and I force a smile to keep him happy as we walk inside the house with other people.

Mum is bustling around the kitchen, enchanting plates to catch large slices of cake and slabs of ice cream. Everyone is laughing and chatting - everyone except me.

"Here Ginny, sweetheart." Mum says briskly, passing me a cold china plate loaded with a chunk of ice cream and a piece of iced cake.

I join the gossiping group of adults whose attention is focused on Harry, who has come back in looking peeved and fed-up.

"He's a love, isn't he?" says Neville's sharp-tongued grandmother. "Witch Weekly was just saying how his ragged good looks are attracting young girls but he's not interested in any of them! Would you believe he hasn't dated since that horrible Chang girl?"

"_I_heard he's fallen in love with a mystery girl with long hair and eyelashes." comments Tonks, glancing at me with a slightly smug look on her face. I blush, shaking my head in denial.

"Really? Who?" jabbers Augusta Longbottom.

"Oh, something like Linnie, or Minnie." answers Tonks. "I'm not _sure._"

"Minnie? Not a very attractive name, but interesting." Augusta murmured.

I send Tonks a warning look and she winks at me before declaring Teddy has spilt juice all down himself and she has to deal with him, leaving me alone with the gossip-gang.

"Do you know Harry well, dear?" prompts Augusta. The others wait patiently.

"Uh...not really." I mutter, subtly moving away from them.

I nibble the cake tentatively, sucking on the icing and savouring the cool, milky taste of the ice cream with relish.

The party is in full swing now, as it's getting later and people are starting to let the Firewhisky and Butterbeer kick in (although Butterbeer is non-alcoholic it raises your sugar level considerably) which means most people are having the time of their lives, including Ron.

Pushing my hair back from my face, I grab a bottle of Firewhisky from the table and take noisy gulps. Hermione watches me out of the corner of her eye and comes up.

"Ginny, are you sure you want that?" she asks cautiously. "Firewhisky mixed with black coffee is _not _going to be nice in the morning."

"I'm fine," I reply reassuringly, "it's you that can't drink."

"Have you uh...talked to Harry yet?" she's obviously been itching to ask this question and I sigh.

"He doesn't like me, Hermione." I protest weakly.

Hermione nods persistently and her brown curls flick over her back. "Promise me you'll let him talk to you." she pleads.

"I promise." I mutter, taking another swig of the Firewhisky. It slides down my throat, cool, refreshing and the slightly bitter aftertaste gone. Warm fizz tickles my tongue, pleading for more.

I avoid Harry for the rest of the night, because I don't want to be told how he loves Romilda and not me.

When it hits midnight, Teddy crashed out on the sofa, thumb in his mouth and Victoire gurgling sleepily in her pram, guests are ushered out by Mum and I try not to let my sleepy mind take charge.

Ron and Hermione decide to stay the night instead of Apparating to the flat at this time of night, subsquently I do too. The roaring of laughter and lightheaded-ness from the Firewhisky starts to take over and I feel my eyelids drooping...

* * *

><p>"<em>Ginny...Ginny...<em>"

"Mmmmph."

_"Ginny...Ginny...wake up..."_

_"_Mmmmph. Tired."

I lift my eyelids groggily to see Mum beaming down at me, her straggly red hair brushed into a shiny clump around her head and looking pleased with herself.

"Rise and shine, darling. It's the Reunion Ball tonight! Hermione collected your dress and don't forget Quidditch training today. I'm bringing everyone along with me to watch your first practise! Ron asked if he could invite Harry, who readily accepted, I know you won't mind-"

"WHAT?" 

* * *

><p>Hope you enjoyed this, review please and next installment up tomorrow. Sorry this is short - I'm exhausted and couldn't write any more. I would really like some more feedback on the story because at the moment people are just favouriting and alerting which is nice but doesn't tell me what you think about it.<p>

RRK


	5. Harry, Hugs and Hungry Interrupting Ron

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

* * *

><p>So basically, my life has taken a turn for the worst.<p>

Why?

a) Harry Potter loves Romilda Vane and not me. Not that I expected him to, or anything.

b) My head is pounding thanks to the Firewhisky and black coffee I had last night, and...

c) Harry Potter is coming to watch my first Qudditch practise where no doubt I will make a fool out of myself like I'm prone to do.

* * *

><p>"I did say don't drink that Firewhisky," Hermione says sympathetically as I sniff the hangover potion she's making. It's an unappetising shade of dark lilac and is frothing like soap.<p>

"My head is throbbing and I think I'm going to be..._bleugh_." I grimace as a blast of brown/black stuff throws itself out of my mouth and into the bucket Mum so "lovingly" put in front of me.

Hermione's face whitens slightly but she keeps cool and dishes out a large volume of the bubbling purple liquid into a shiny metal glass and prompts me.

Intaking a large breath, I gulp down the purple stuff and almost spit it out again. It tastes like mouldy bubblegum and caviar. Let's just say it's an aquired taste.

I feel something like relief and painless comfort sooth my insides before flashing Hermione a friendly smile and shuddering slightly as the potion works its magic.

"You'd better have a shower, practise is at eight and it's seven twenty," reminds Hermione, pouring the rest of the potion down the sink. "Luna is coming and she's bringing _Rolf_." This is followed by a very un-Hermione-ish giggle.

She's certainly glowing, hair shiny and her face radiating happiness. Her loose tendrils of hair are clipped back with a lilac bow and she's got on jeans and a flat lilac tank top.

I smile and rush upstairs, thrusting the bathroom door open and literally charming my clothes off then jumping into the shower.

The water is tepid as it slides down my back, darkening my hair. Reaching for the shampoo, I bite my lip because I can't avoid Harry forever but I _can't _face hearing about Hag-face Romilda.

I spend ten minutes rinsing my hair, using my favourite wild strawberry shower gel and finally race into my bedroom, shed the thin blue towel and pull on the Harpies' gear.

First is a red jersey with "Weasley" embroidered on the back in white writing followed by "Chaser" and "Holyhead Harpies". Then it's tight white jeans (or jogging bottoms, your choice) that end above the ankle and some trainers.

I perform a drying charm on my hair, scoop it into a messy bun with a few dark red tendrils hanging down to frame my face and hurry downstairs, panting.

We've arranged to meet at the pitch so I grab some green floo powder and whisper "Harpies' training ground, Holyhead" before disappearing in a flash of flames.

The rest of the team are chatting to Gwenog. Harmony Clove, the reserve, eyes me up jealously and I don't miss the resentful glare she shoots.

"Weasley, good. We're discussing tactics for todays' practise. Our keeper is going to make it extra hard for you because the next match we have will be against the Ballycastle Bats and so everyone needs to be on tip-top form. Gia, stop pulling that face right now!" Gwenog's stern voice bellows.

Gia Hardwood scowls as we kick off and I take my place, keeping a watchful eye out on Gina Belby, the Keeper. Gloria, my mentor, is first to score and the Quaffle soars into the goal.

I make a modest amount of goals, nipping this way and that, when the arrival of my family catches me off guard. Ron and Hermione are holding hands, giving me big smiles and Harry Potter's Floo flame eyes are scanning me from the ground.

"Concentrate, Weasley!" shouts Gwenog as Gia Gambie takes a ferocious swipe at the Bludger towards me. I manage to dodge it just in time, my eyes widening.

Fighting the strong desire to watch my family, I catch the Quaffle gracefully, and shoot. Gina only just misses it and grins at me.

"Well done Weasley! Got good Quidditch blood in your family then?" she yells over the roaring wind; I wink in response.

* * *

><p>When we finally finish, I'm exhausted and feel drained as I gently float towards the pitch. Gia glares at me.<p>

"You think you're all that, don't you?" she snarls, not bothering to hide her hostility.

"Yeah, I do, got a problem with that?" I retort, colour scorching my pale cheeks.

"Gwenog sure made a poor judgement call in taking _you _on," Gia growls, "you're a blood traitor. My brother, Daniel, says his friend Draco was brutally attacked by _you._"

"Your brother is an idiot if he's friends with Draco," I hiss, "he's a slimy little snake with a cherry kernel for a brain."

Gia snorts. "Coming from _Ginevra Weasley_!"

"That is _enough, _Gia Gambie!" Gwenog Jones' angry yelp causes Gia to jump in surprise like a startled puppy.

"She's so manipulative, take her off the team!" whines Gia as she turns around to face the podium, where my family and Harry are sat, half-watching, half-chatting.

"I will do no such thing, she's the most talented Chaser I've ever come across-" I blush with pride "-and you, Gia, have been far too unfocused. One strike for abusing another player."

Gia, however, barely hears Gwenog's stern discipline because her narrow crystal blue eyes have settled on Harry. _My _Harry.

"Well _hello_!" she whistles loudly, flashing him a flirtatious look. Harry raises an eyebrow.

Anger boils inside me, because although he doesn't like me, Gia cannot have him!

"What's he doing with her pathetic bunch?" she asks rudely, "_I _heard they don't have a Knut to their name!"

"_Battus mucosa!_"

Some people say my bat-bogey hexes are good. Some say excellent. Well I say _flabbergasting _because her mutating bogies are now attacking her with every fibre of their being.

"Ginny, I can't say that wasn't deserved," Gwenog hides a smirk, "but don't do it again."

I don't attempt to stop my laughs as I saunter over to the podium and Gwenog performs a counter-curse.

"You were brilliant, darling," Mum's sobbing into a tissue, "all my children are grown up!"

"Awesome..." breathes Teddy, who has come along to watch with the promise of ice cream, "those bwogies awe attacking the uggie girl!"

"_Ugly _girl," I correct him, grinning, "and yes, she is rather ugly isn't she?"

"Ginevra!" scolds Mum, whilst Ron, Hermione and the twins pat me on the back and cheer me on.

My eyes unexpectedly find Harry's, and one quick search tells me the fire in his emerald eyes means he's bursting to tell me something.

Just as I'd predicted, he takes my hand (his hand is very soft. And it shoots a spark through my body. Oh no, he probably thinks I'm a nutter staring at his hand like a weird redheaded creep) and pulls me a little away from my family, who exchange knowing looks. _They _must know he likes Romilda! The shame...

"Ginny, I _really _have to tell you something," Harry begins in a hard voice, "but every time something interrupts us. The truth is, over the past few days, I've fallen in-"

"Ginny! Harry! Hurry up, we want to get ice cream!" moans a whiny voice. I turn, mind whirling at what Harry wants to tell me (STUPID STUPID INTERRUPTIONS!) to see not Teddy, but _Ron._

"Not _now _Ron," Harry says angrily, eyes burning with fury and frustration.

"Hermione's craving it like mad, and I want to get mint chocolate chip before it all goes!" complains my greedy brother, scowling.

"Tell me later," I sigh, pushing my tousled hair back exasperatedly and following Ron from the stadium.

"Wait." calls Harry.

"I don't need to hear about how you love Romilda Vane and won't ever like me because I'm a crazy redhead with mental hair and I'm disturbed, plus I act like a lunatic every time you're around, keep bumping into you and doing stupid things when you're around and how you wish I'd stop following you because I'm strange."

After this loony ramble I curse myself for being such an idiot before leaving Harry to digest everything I've just said.

* * *

><p>"Mmmmm."<p>

"Would you just shut up Ron!"

"What's bitten you?"

"Nothing, I just don't particularly enjoy hearing you make stupid food noises every two seconds!"

"Whatever."

Instead of getting the nice relaxing time I wanted to prepare for the stupid ball, Ron insisted upon coming back to the flat Hermione and I share, then proceeded to bug me half to death by sucking noisily on his ice cream, drinking my black coffee and then proceeding to start smooching with Hermione.

"Ooh, this says the baby gets hiccups!" Hermione squeals happily, rubbing her stomach.

"Amazing," agrees Ron, licking his lips lustfully.

I pull a face behind his back, clutch my dress and go to change for the ball as it will be starting in an hour.

After sliding the clingy dress on, I slip in two black and red rose earrings, grab a red clutch purse and slip on my red and black stilettos before applying thick black eyeliner, lipgloss and mascara.

When I emerge, transformed, I see Hermione has quickly changed into her dress - it's a red version of the black one she wore yesterday and Ron can't take his eyes off her.

"Ronald," she says, but a smile appears on her pretty face.

"Are we Apparating?" he asks quickly, seeing my digusted look.

"No you idiot, you can't Apparate in and out of Hogwarts!" I snort unkindly, and Ron blushes ruby red.

"Let's Floo into the Headmistress's office," Hermione suggests, "I expect most other ex-students will be doing that after all."

"Ok." I agree reluctantly, scooping a handful of powder from the small porcelain bowl by the fireplace. Ron and Hermione watch as I throw the stuff over myself and shout "Hogwarts, McGonagall's office!"

Immediately there's a flash of luminous green light and I'm standing, bewildered inside McGonagall's office (Dumbledore's old one). She's standing in front of his portait and smiling.

"Yes Albus, I - of course! Albus!" McGonagall's laughing quietly at something he's saying and I let out a quick "Ew!"

She whips around and sees me, shock blazing in her dark eyes. "Ginevra Weasley! What are you-?"

"Reunion Ball," I explain sheepishly, grimacing slightly.

Her face scarlet, she nods, scandalised. "Well hurry along, it's in the Great Hall."

"Goodbye Miss Weasley!" Dumbledore's portrait calls after me, and I roll my eyes before hurrying through corridors to find the Great Hall - it's been a while.

Inside, students are dressed formally, girls' multicoloured dresses catching my eye and boys scrubbed up in their best suits, chatting up various other girls.

"Ginny!" Luna calls happily. "Over here!"

A bunch of gossiping girls giggle at Luna's dress - it's a sparkly silver one with red stripes that she's sewn on herself.

"They can laugh, but red is good luck at parties." Luna adds serenely, sipping at her glass of champagne.

The hall is transformed. Instead of four House tables, huge banners are plastered on the walls and one large, slender table is laden with mouthwatering foods on which ex-pupils are snacking.

"Is uh...Harry here?" I say casually, and Luna smirks.

"Yes, he came. He asked me if you were here yet. I think he's eating treacle tart, he smelt it and made a beeline for the stuff." she answers.

"Right..." I give her a nervous smile.

"I think he has some Wrackspurts buzzing around his head because he seemed confused...maybe because I was bitten by a Gnome, the _Gernumblie _magic could attract Nargles." Luna says dreamily.

"I'll um...go get something to eat." I mumble, flushing magenta.

"I'll wait here while you go talk to Harry, ok." Luna says bluntly, taking another confident sip of her drink.

I smile at her ability to detect everything and force myself to walk over to Harry.

"Hey." I tap him gently on the back and he jumps, slopping champagne over the polished floor.

"Oh, hi." he says desperately, face crimson. "I _have _to talk to you, Ginny."

"What about?" I sigh, tears welling up.

"I most certainly do _not _fancy Romilda."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh_. I fancy someone else."

"Oh Harry, is she beautiful?"

"Gorgeous."

Just my luck, I bet he's lusting after some slutty brunette.

"What's she like?" _None of your business Ginny! He doesn't like you, so stop being an idiot and give up!_

"Funny, mental, clever, kind, pretty, amazing..." he sighs wistfully, and a fool could see how in love he is with this girl.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Go for it," I force a strained smile, "I'm sure she likes you too."

"You think?"

"Um...yeah! Excuse me, I have to go and see Hermone."

I can't let him see me cry.

As the tears fall and I run past Hermione, Harry calling after me desperately.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Hermione gasps breathlessly.

I run, hair cascading down my shoulders, not looking back, eyes swimming with tears that are dribbling down my face like droplets of blood.

_Whoever this girl is, she's the luckiest girl in the world._

Not only have I ruined the one chance Harry and I had to be friends, but I've also proven myself to be the craziest witch alive.

I run home, heart-wrenching sobs audiable for anyone that passes me by, but my tears indistinguishable in the rain.

Tears are the words the heart can't express.

* * *

><p>I feel really bad for Ginny in this one! If only she'd listen to Harry. Well, please drop a review with your comments, ideas and opinions because they mean a lot to me.<p>

I am the biggest HG fan in the world, HG forever! I hate Harry/Hermione = yuck.

Thanks to all my reviewers: Holyhead Harpies, kisha, giantsfan13, RoseDoctorForEva, rachel, purple.y goodness and purple389. You made me smile a mile wide when I read your reviews!

next installment soon, maybe even later tonight if I'm not too tired. Tell me your thoughts on Ron interrupting!

love you all! RRK


	6. Clues, Confusement and Catastrophies

Disclaimer: As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it. Also, as I forgot to say...Colin Creevey is NOT dead. By now you've probably guessed not many are dead. PEACE._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

* * *

><p>I let myself into the flat, keys trembling in my sweaty hand and brush the babyish tears away. The flat seems grey, desolate and barren without Hermione to add laughter and Ron to annoy me.<p>

I pour myself a small volume of firewhisky and let it scorch my dry throat, working fireworks inside my stomach. The ticking of the clock seems to get louder.

_Tick, tock..._

I bet he fancies Lavender Brown.

Don't be stupid, Ginny, _nobody _fancies Lavender Brown except Seamus. His exact words were "She clings to me like a leech but sometimes a bloke likes to come home to somethin'".

The time passes slowly, every second like an hour as I drain my glass and pour a bit more inside. The alcoholic beverage will take its toll on me soon but at least when drunk you don't have to worry about your problems.

I finish most of the bottle, licking my lips, and stumble into the bathroom, half-dressed, the dress at my waist revealing my creamy white stomach and a belly button piercing I had done ages ago for a dare and never bothered to take out.

After rubbing off my makeup, red swirls smudged over the sink and mascara dribbling down the drain, I stagger over to the bath and turn on the hot tap, testing the tepid water gingerly with my fingers before drenching myself in the bubbly comfort.

As I hiccup miserably and re-cap on the nights' events, and the hot water works wonders on my skin, it feels so good to relax and I close my eyes, feeling a yawn escape my pink lips.

* * *

><p>After washing my hair, I reluctantly and drunkenly stalk into my bedroom, pull on a pair of very short blue pyjama bottoms and an old, washed-out green Dementor's Kiss (the band) t-shirt before crawling into bed, exhasted and letting sleep claim me, my tear-stained face pallid in the silent night.<p>

In the morning, I am surprised to find that instead of having a hangover, I feel normal yet tired and my mind is no longer hazy from the alcoholic Firewhisky the previous night.

Hermione is making spaghetti in the kitchen and mixing it with _ice cream _and _pickles_.

"Hermione, what the hell are you eating?" I demand, pointing a long finger at her bowl of warm, savoury pasta, sweet, tangy ice cream and sharp, mouth-watering pickles.

"The baby wants it." she explains guiltily. "I offered Ron some but he didn't seem to want any..."

"I wonder why." I said sarcastically, pulling a cornflakes box from a cupboard and using _Accio _to summon a bowl and some creamy, rich milk.

"You missed a good party last night," Hermione says unconvincingly; her attempt to uncover my reason for leaving last night is blatantly obvious.

"I didn't feel like staying." I shrug, pouring a small amount of the flakes into a bowl and tipping the milk jug into it.

"Harry missed you." Hermione's voice is uncertain and wavers slightly.

"No, he's all moony and hung-up over some gorgeous girl." I tell her with a small sigh.

"Yes, he told me her name." Hermione nods, taking a forkful of sliced pickle dipped in mint chocolate ice cream.

I flush shell-pink. "He should tell her how he feels, lucky girl."

"He says he's trying, but someone stops him each time," Hermione says meaningfully, swallowing her meal.

I force a smile. "Hermione, I'm not interested in the love-life of Harry and Lavender."

Hermione chokes on her mouthful. "_Lavender_? She couldn't even pull Ron properly, let alone _Harry_! She's a manipulative cow."

"I think he fancies her." I explain as she dumps her half-empty bowl in the sink and wipes the faint traces of mint around her mouth off.

"Harry and Lavender? That's the sickest thing I've heard all day," laughs Hermione, opening the fridge, "ooh look, we have peanut butter! That would be so deliciously tasty with fresh ham and maybe some mustard, oh and cheescake."

I raise my eyebrows. "That sounds revolting. Baby Rose certainly has some strange tastes. She is Ron's daughter, I suppose."

Hermione scowls. "I want my _cheescake_!"

I smirk. "Ron is the worst cook in the world, but if you owl Mum she'll whip you up something in a flash - you are carrying her grandson or granddaughter."

"Daughter," Hermione grins prettily, "it's a little baby girl. Rose Ginevra Granger-Weasley."

I congratulate her and then something springs to mind. "I drank three quarters of a bottle of Firewhisky last night but I'm not hungover."

"Oh yes, I performed a Hangover Charm on you as you slept." Hermione answers proudly, nibbling at a piece of ham. "I need to owl Molly for the cheescake."

As she does this, a beautiful snow-white owl swoops in through the open window and perches on my arm, giving my earlobe an affectionate nip. Any fool would know this is Hedwig.

Hedwig drops a bright, pure white letter into my lap and gives an encouraging hoot.

"It's from Harry," I mumble needlessly.

"Open it." Hermione tells me as her red quill flies over a piece of fresh parchment.

I hesitate and curiosity takes over consequently I rip open the envelope and scan the parchment carefully.

_Ginny,_

_If you're reading this I'm guessing Hedwig did her job and you don't hate me enough to ignore it._  
><em>Well that's something!<em>  
><em>I don't fancy Romilda Vane, or any of those demented girls from my "Fan Club" because as I told you,<em>  
><em>I only have eyes for one person.<em>  
><em>I reckon I know you well enough now to tell you who that is, but why not have some fun? I've made some clues<em>  
><em>for you to guess who it is, and if you get it right, I'll tell you...that is if you don't work it out from my little clues.<em>

_Cheers,_

_your devestatingly handsome friend,_

_Harry_

I stare open-mouthed at the cheerful letter and it slips out of my fingers. Hermione immediately summons it with her wand and starts giggling.

"I have never," she says with a smirk, "met anyone as dense as you, Ginny."

"Hey!" I give her a light punch in the shoulder. "Do I know this girl?"

"Oh yes," Hermione chuckles, "you are very close to her. Joined at the hip, really."

Puzzled, I frown and shake the envelope - a small white slip flies out and I catch it deftly.

_Her magic is extraordinary, she is the number seven,_

_And when her lips curve into a sweet smile I think that I'm in heaven._

What does that mean? Number seven? Maybe she plays for a Quidditch team and is number seven?

I pass the note to Hermione who sniggers.

"Ginny, this is so painfully obvious..."

"I don't get it!" I protest, snatching the slip from her and scrutinising it.

"Ginny, NUMBER SEVEN. It's a very powerful magical number!" Hermione sighs exasperatedly.

"Maybe when he says "in heaven" he means Celia, that girl that works in Rosmerta's bar," I suggest, heart sinking. The name Celia means "heaven" and she is very pretty...

Hermione opens her mouth as if to deny it and then closes it suddenly as if she's remembered something.

"I'm going to try it." I declare, and the uncomfortable sensation of being squashed grasps me as I Disapperate.

* * *

><p>"Ginny?" Rosmerta's voice is filled with surprise and warmth as she flicks her curly blonde hair over one shoulder and curves her scarlet lips into a smile.<p>

"Is Celia here?" I ask inquisitively, pushing my hair back self-consciously. Rosmerta is beautiful, there's no denying it, and next to her I feel like a grey cloud hovering around, blocking the sun's light, while she's a colourful rainbow, bringing joy and bright feelings into the world.

"No, Celia quit a month ago and went to live with her mum in Australia," Rosmerta says in a confused tone. "Did you know her?"

"Uh - vaguely." I mutter, flushing radish red as I scurry out of the crowded, decorative bar.

* * *

><p>When I get back to the flat, slightly wet with the despondant drizzle, Hermione is tucking into ham dipped in mustard and cheescake, sprinkled with lime zest and dotted with chocolate gratings.<p>

"Ugh, that looks horrific...I was wrong, it wasn't Celia." I admit, and then notice the pale brown envelope lying next to her plate.

"It's for you, Hedwig dropped it after you left." Hermione explains, chewing daintily.

I tear open the envelope in suspense, climax building, to find another useless clue.

_Blood relations share one similar trait,_

_And her status once sealed her fate._

"What the hell does that mean? One similar trait? Let me guess, she's a Veela! Figures, beautiful, luring, lustful...and her status sealed her fate...she's probably a pure-blood, which meant when Voldemort was around she was safe." I observe, and Hermione grunts in frustration.

"Ginneee! It's so clear, you daft dimbo!" she bursts out, brushing her chocolate coloured bushy hair from her petite face.

"Oh no! It's Gabrielle, isn't it? Fleur's sister!" I take a sharp breath and my jaw hangs out gormlessly.

Hermione toys with her remaining cheescake, biting her lips to prevent another word escaping her mouth.

"I think she's visiting Fleur and Bill," I concur, "so I'll go and see her. She is rather attractive, and part Veela too."

With that, I use Floo powder this time and am painfully reminded of Harry's blazing emerald eyes as the lime green flames linger in the fireplace.

* * *

><p>"Beel! 'Ave you zeen my French cookeeng booke?"<p>

Fleur's "irresistable" accent floats towards me as she walks into her living room, an exasperated look on her dazzling face, Gabrielle next to her jabbering away in fluent French.

I take the oppotunity while they are absorbing the fact I have suddenly appeared in their fireplace to examine the living room.

Fleur may be a pain in the ass but her living room is gorgeous.

Sugar-lilac walls are framed with a pure clean cream carpet so soft your feet sink into it, plush white leather sofas and a transparant coffee table laden with a small red rose and a few French magazines. The bookcase is packed with dragon books and French lifestyle brochures, and an enormous chandelier hangs above my head.

"Ginnee, I waz not expecting you." Fleur says, puzzled.

"I need to speak to Gabrielle." I answer shortly, and Gabrielle knots her eyebrows together.

"If you muzt." she says in a bored tone, and Fleur uses her "exemplary" manners and leaves us in privacy.

"Have you uh, spoken to Harry recently?" I question, studying her pretty face.

"No, I 'ave not after you zo rudely dizmizzed me from your 'ouse. I 'ave a new boyfriend now, granted 'e iz not ze zame az 'Arry but that cannot be 'elped. If you are 'ounding me about your boyfriend I know nothink." Gabrielle's tone is somewhat sharp and clipped.

"Oh..." I am pleased he hasn't chosen her, but sad because yet again I have guessed wrong. I really am clueless.

"You know Ginnee, I waz zinkink ze ozer day, and I thought that 'Arry clearly loves zomeone elz - you. Zo don't act az if I am cheating with 'him!"

"What do you mean? He doesn't love me!" I exclaim, eyes bulging in shock.

"Ah, 'e doez. I zaw 'him shooting you zoppy looks ze ozer day." Gabrielle insists. "Now go! I 'ave a party to prepare for."

I glare at her with the power of a demented redhead and turn on my heel before Apparating to the flat.

"Still not figured it out?" Hermione says with a knowing smile.

"No! It's not Celia or Gabrielle..." I ball my fists. "Potter is so difficult!"

Hermione wordlessly hands me another envelope, light and smooth, which I rip open and then seize the slip that falls out.

_The one you doubt the most is her,_

_With this you should now concur._

"The one you doubt the most...well I suppose that's you, Hermione!" I giggle.

"It isn't _me_!" scoffs Hermione. "I'm happily married and pregnant, Ginny!"

"Then _who_?" I whine like a spoilt child, thoughts wizzing around my head like Firewhisky.

"I have never met anyone as oblivious and clueless as you." Hermione shakes her head. "Open the envelope a bit more, there's an extra clue."

I fold my arms and heart pounding, shake the envelope a little too enthusiastically and just manage to catch it before it falls into Hermione's cheescake.

_Meet me at where a trio of magical blood can fly,_

_And guaranteed you will not cry_

I frown. "What does _that _mean?"

Hermione grabs the paper, abandoning her cheescake and colour splashes her cheeks.

"I uh- have to go," she swallows, "work it out, Gin, and for Merlin's sake be quick!"

With that, Hermione is gone and I'm left to ponder the ridiculous clue.

_Guaranteed I won't cry...I must like this girl then...but wouldn't that make me more upset?_

I give a frustrated yelp and stare at the clue until the ink runs.

Trio of magical blood can fly..._The Three Broomsticks! _Of course!

Excitement pulsing through my veins, I run a brush through my hair, throw on my best jeans and a silver/black top before Disapperating.

* * *

><p>The Three Broomsticks is full of people sipping drinks and making quiet conversation - most of them seem to be masked, with long overcoats and big hats - hey, that woman looks remarkably like Tonk-<p>

"Hi Gin."

I whip around, heart thumping at a hundred miles an hour. Harry James Potter is sat at a table...with no girl beside him.

"Where is she?" I ask, motioning to the empty seat.

"Oh, she's here, she just doesn't know it yet." answers Harry, looking incredibly cute with his hair tousled like that and shirt untucked, glasses askew-

Ginevra Molly Weasley! That is another girl's soon-to-be boyfriend!

Oh, he must not have told her he likes her yet. I scan the place for pretty Veelas and draw a zero, though a mop of silvery blonde does catch my eye-

"So, um, I never got a chance to tell you...you, um, looked really pretty in your dress. Both nights." Harry blushes not unlike the Weasley blush, a family trait, along with the red hair.

_Trait..._

Coincidence.

"Thanks." I flash him the sweetest smile I can muster. "So when are you going to tell her?"

"Oh, haven't you figured it out yet?" Harry asks in a surprised tone, slightly offended.

"No...I just can't think who it could be."

Suddenly, I think I hear a very familiar person calling my name, and then another familiar person telling them to shut up, but it must be my imagination.

"Oh..." Harry sounds disappointed.

I'm about to ask him if it's Lavender when suddenly he opens his mouth and blurts out the most unexpected thing in the world.

"GINNY WEASLEY I AM COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY IN LOVE WITH YOU AND I HAVE BEEN SINCE I FIRST MET YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL I'VE EVER SEEN AND ALSO MENTAL, CLEVER, FUNNY, KIND AND CLUELESS BUT EVERY TIME I DROP A HINT YOU THINK I'M TALKING ABOUT LAVENDER BROWN OR SOME OTHER COMPLETELY UNATTRACTIVE GIRL!"

* * *

><p>Well. I know. I'm mean. Cliffhanger, again.<p>

I wonder how crazy Ginny is going to take this one?

Do me a favour and drop a **review please**! More soon, I promise!

Also could anyone tell me how you put a profile pic on? Cause when I copy and pasted it disappeared when I pressed update!


	7. Snogging, Seething and Stupid Skeeter

Disclaimer: As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it. Also, as I forgot to say...Colin Creevey is NOT dead. By now you've probably guessed not many are dead. PEACE._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

* * *

><p>Mmm.<p>

I look like a goldish. My jaw is probably touching the sparkling clean floor right now and my eyes are the size of Quaffles.

He locks his eyes onto mine; blazing emerald, tinted with mesmerising golden flecks, and suddenly his lips are crushed against my own.

Soft, but captivating, the element of vanilla etched upon his lips, our breathing is ragged and our tongues are dancing, desire enclosing me, as if he'd reached in and touched my soul...

I'm kissing _Harry Potter._

Harry Potter is in love with

me.

Suddenly an uproar of cheers, laughter and ecstatic yells break into my thoughts because all those people wearing trench coats, big hats and cleverly disguising make up have revealed themselves.

Tonks, my brothers, my parents, Hermione, Fleur, Gabrielle (who looks sulky), Neville, Luna, Remus, Rosmerta, Dean and Seamus are all here.

My gobsmacked look must have reached their occupied minds as Hermione bursts out laughing.

"_Ginny_...those clues!" she gasps out hysterically.

"They were hard!" I protest feebly, lips on fire from the moment before.

"Oh for Merlin's sake," Hermione smirks, "number seven. You are the first Weasley girl for seven generations and the seventh child! Your magic is extraordianary because seven is a very powerful magical number!"

"And," Tonks grins cheekily, a lazy arm wrapped embracingly around the white nape of Remus's neck, "the same trait meant your Weasley hair and/or the blush!"

"The one you doubt the most, Ginny, was yourself!" chuckles Seamus.

"You all _knew_?" I echo in disbelief. My own family knew and never told me!

"Duh," Ron says sarcastically, "it was kind of obvious."

"Well if _you_hadn't interrupted Harry when he was trying to tell Ginny this wouldn't have happened!" scolds Hermione, and he smirks and throws an arm around her neck lovingly.

I feel Harry's gaze on me and look up.

"I've fallen for you, Ginny Weasley, literally."

* * *

><p>So.<p>

I have recieved two letters; both ones from complete bitches that I will willingly Crucio.

First is one from the Official Harry James Potter Fan Club (and I thought I was crazy) about me.

_Ginevra Weasley,_

_Upon reading an article we found from the estranged writer Rita Skeeter, we have discovered_  
><em>you are under the impression you are dating Harry Potter. This is a ridiculous lie on your part.<em>

_Everyone knows Harry would never fall in love with a weasel like you, he is obviously in love with Romilda V- I mean,_  
><em>us ladies at the club. Please kindly stop spreading outrageous rumours and go back to being the dishonest little<em>  
><em>worm you always were.<em>

_Yours indignantly,_

_Romilda Vane,_

_Head/Manager of HJPFC._

You have to laugh. That girl has serious issues.

And then the delightful Rita Skeeter sent me a copy of her newest article, "hot off the press" and demanded I read it.

_THE CHOSEN ONE'S CHOSEN ONE!_

_The nation's favourite "hero" has broken a number of hearts this evening, writes experienced journalist Rita Skeeter, as a certain Ginevra Weasley, red hair and all, has managed to seduce him and pictured above, even scraped a kiss._

_Harry Potter, who has toyed with the affections of many such as Hermione Granger and Romilda Vane, has suffered a very emotional childhood, and is obviously attempting to play the bachelor - or as a misguided attempt to follow in his (deceased) parents' footsteps, has chosen a redhead to be like Lily Potter and James Potter._

_Rita Skeeter, extraordinarily gifted writer._

How rude.

Just because she can't pull a second date (or even a first one) it's not my problem!

"Ignore it," Hermione scoffs, tearing the newspaper up, "she is a pathelogical liar. As if Harry and I ever were romantically involved!"

"Mmm she is a bitch," Harry agrees, flashing me a smile that makes my knees give way before leaning in and caressing my lips with his own...

"Ginny! Stop snogging and listen!" Hermione interrupts, face flushed pink. "I'm going to tell the Ministry that awful Skeeter woman is an unregistered Animagus!"

"She is?" I gape like a fish (again, it seems to be a habit of mine).

"Yes, a nasty little beetle," Hermione growls, "and I will squash her! Wait till I get my hands on her horrible bleached blonde dandelion fluff!"

"Pregnancy mood swings," I giggle and Harry smirks.

"I bloody hope _I _never have to put up with that," he whispers huskily in my ear, breath tickling my neck.

"I can hear that, you know!" snaps Hermione. "I want my marzipan, Ron was supposed to be buying some but he's gotten sidetracked!"

Her scowl is alarmingly ferocious and so Harry grabs my hand and before I know it, he's Side-Along Apparated me to Florean Fortescue's ice cream stall.

"Ice cream for the pretty lady and the handsome man?" he winks, and I grin as Harry (much to my protests) hands him a Galleon and buys me a strawberry ripple.

I feel my cheeks on fire as he puts his arm around me and earn glares from about twenty passing girls.

"You are such a bitch."

My blood becomes cold as I turn around and see my mortal-enemy.

Romilda Vane, half-troll half-evil person.

"Oi," Harry demands, "don't speak to her like that!"

"I'll speak to her however I damn want!" spits Romilda acidly, flicking her thick, bold black curls around in a way she obviously finds seductive.

Before I can say anything, Romilda's sharp fingernails dig into my scalp and she tugs at my hair angrily, like a vicious wolf.

I yelp in pain and try to break free and Harry immediately intervenes.

"Get _off _my girlfriend!" he yells, tugging at her wrists, and although a crazy evil harpy is pulling at my head like a demented squirrel a warm sensation tingles my spine.

"GET OFF MY HEAAAAAAAD!" I screech, and with one final burst of strength Harry manages to push her off me and I whimper slightly, rubbing my aching head.

What if she's pulled a chunk out of my hair?

_I swear I'm going to kill that mental bitc-_

"Ginny, are you alright?" Harry's concerned voice breaks into my revenge plans as Romilda struggles in his grip, the fury still embedded in her dark eyes.

"F-fine." I stammer.

Every passing witch and wizard are staring at us; some with great distaste; others with sympathy; one witch takes one look at Romilda and runs off, clutching her five year old to her chest protectively.

"Of course she is! Everyone knows she slipped you a love potion!" snarls Romilda, clawing at Harry's hand.

"That's rubbish and you know it," retorts Harry calmly, "so I suggest you stop behaving like a wild cat and leave Ginny alone."

Romilda's eyes fill with fake tears. "But I'm in love with youuuu!"

"And unsurprisingly I will never return those feelings," he says dryly, "so leave my girlfriend alone."

I can't resist giving Romilda a satisfied smirk as Harry checks my head for blood (and funnily enough there is some) and it takes ten minutes to persuade him St. Mungo's is not an option.

* * *

><p>Does he love me like a friend or is he <em>in <em>love with me?

"Ginny don't be so stupid," Hermione giggles, "that is the most ridiculous question ever since Ron asked me if babies come _out_of the stomach."

I snigger. "He was dropped on his head as a baby...but are you sure?"

"Yes Ginny," she says impatiently, rolling her eyes, "of course he is!"

"He doesn't just love me as a friend?"

"GINNY!"

Oops.

* * *

><p><strong>I know this chapter was v.v.v. short but it's school tomorrow and I didn't have time for any longer, chapter two will be Revenge on Romilda :)<strong>

REVIEW please!

P.S how do you put a profile pic on?

hope you enjoyed this, more tomorrow (HOPEFULLY) and love you all!

RRK


	8. Whining, Witches and Ginny's Wrath

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

* * *

><p>She is an <em>abominable <em>person.

As I'm contemplating the revolting-ness of Romilda _Vain_, the devil herself comes into view.

Maybe nobody would notice if I just shot one tiny-weeny little hex? Just a little one?

I glare at her with every fibre of my being and recieve a blood-curdling smirk in response. Why is she so happy? She almost made me bald!

"_Batt-_"

"Young lady, did you drop this?" I'm startled by the kind, croaky voice of a bizarre looking man behind me dressed in a green tweed suit, with a pallid, sweaty face and two small beady eyes the colour of cornflowers. He's holding out a small slip of paper.

"I don't think so," I frown, scanning it slightly - and two words catch my eye. _Romilda Vane._

"Yes! It is!" I cry out immediately, causing the Tweed-Guy to jump and hurry away as if I belong in a mental asylum.

I crumple the sheet in my hand eagerly and read it. It turns out to be a dog-eared, gritty reciept.

Oh. My. God.

That absolute bitch has ordered fifty love potions from my brothers' joke shop. Un-bloody-believable.

No prizes for guessing who exactly they are for. Harry. _My _Harry.

She's just started a war.

* * *

><p>"Ginny, you don't <em>know <em>they are for Harry," Hermione says pleadingly, rubbing her stomach.

"Yes I do! Who else would they be for?" I scowl furiously.

"I don't know, but really, is it worth getting worked up over?" Hermione protests weakly, chancing a glance at Ron who is deeply engrossed in the Chudley Cannons' section of _Flight_.

We're in the flat, me drinking ice-cold pumpkin juice and nibbling at some disgusting brownies Ron made and Hermione sadly staring at her egg salad while eyeing up the brownies. (What for, I don't know. They bring a whole new level to revolting.)

"Hermione! This calls for Commence Operation Destroy Romilda Vane!" I growl.

"I am _not _helping you in this crazy scheme," Hermione says firmly.

"Do I need to remind you that Lavender is one of Romilda's best friends, still attracted to Ron and will have access to those love po-"

"I'll do it."

* * *

><p>Now. Roping in the rest of the team.<p>

Luna and Hannah. Perfect. And the good news is, we have our own method of communication. We're the Ace Gang.

Hermione sighs deeply and pulls from a locked drawer containing chocolates (Ron gets a bit carried away with the munchies) and other various discarded items such as cologne and chewing gum a fake Galleon.

From the D.A days, wonderful Hermione bought fake Galleons to communicate with, and upon my urging installed little microphones into hers, Luna's, Hannah's and my own so we could communicate individually.

"Code 999," Hermione says exasperatedly into the Galleon, "Code 999. Abort all activity. Code 999."

I smirk as I feel my own Galleon grow hot and Hermione's voice squeak out of the hard golden depths.

"Hannah and Luna will be here any second," intructs Hermione, "so get a pencil, paper and some Butterbeer."

* * *

><p>"Ginny. No."<p>

"Why not?"

"Because that's mean and illegal."

"Pleeeease?"

"No."

I heave another sigh at Hermione's refusal to do yet another of my admittedly extreme suggestions.

"The main point is this is Code 999 - a girl's boyfriend is at risk. Those love potions could do serious damage." Hannah points out, sipping her Butterbeer calmly.

"Yes," says Luna dreamily, "so why don't we focus on getting rid of them? I could use the acidic saliva of a Hooting Ding-"

"That's ok, Luna," Hermione interjects quickly, "we'll destroy the potions - however, how do we find them?"

"She'll have stashed them away at her apartment," Hannah informs us, "Parvarti and I meet up weekly to discuss gossip and that, so she gave me the news on Romilda. They share a flat and according to Parvarti, Romilda has been plotting this for a long time. She told me yesterday, I was going to alert you, Ginny."

"Thanks, Hannah," I nod grimly, "looks like we'll have to go to the she-devil's lare."

Luna smirks and Hannah giggles; however Hermione stays stony-faced.

"We can't, Romilda won't let us in, and Parvarti is her good friend." she points out stubbornly, looking longingly at a nearby slab of chocolate.

"Sneak in," Hannah offers, "it's not like it's for a bad reason, is it? And Ginny, you need to talk to Fred and George about these love potions. It's not right to sell them, people shouldn't be tricked into loving someone else. Enchantments and incantations were not ever meant to be used for these things." she shudders slightly.

"Sneak in?" Hermione looks horrified but Luna is nodding.

"Come on, Hermione, or Harry will be snogging the face off that two-faced cow!" I plead.

"Fine," she scowls, "but if this goes wrong..."

* * *

><p>"I'm cold," Hermione says grumpily, wrapping her scarf tighter around her pale neck.<p>

We are currently standing outside Flat No. 113, where according to Hannah Parvarti and Romilda live.

"Knock," orders Hannah nervously, and Luna smiles serenely before tapping politely twice on the heavy wooden door.

There's a pause, a distinct murmur of voices and a hot and bothered looking Parvarti opens the door.

"Hannah," she says quizzically, "Luna. Ginny, Hermione. Can I help you?"

"Yes," I exclaim, "we need to come in."

Hermione shoots me a glare before saying "is Romilda in?"

"No, it's just me and my boyfriend." Parvarti mutters, cheeks reddening, and her tousled hair registers with me immediately.

Before I can subtly say we'll come back another time, Luna has pushed Parvarti out of the way and bounded into the room.

We follow precautiously, observing the beautiful paintwork and marvellous paintings hanging from the wall. A medium-height man with greasy brown hair and cold, piercing eyes like icy knives flashes me an empty smile.

"If you were polite you would have offered us some tea or coffee," observes Luna, ignoring my furious looks at the man in question, "but never mind. I never liked the taste anyway-"

"Ginny."

Michael Corner and Parvarti Patil.

How disgusting.

"Michael. Last time I saw you you were dripping with fruit and syrup." I smirk at the memory and he scowls.

"I am aware of that."

"If you'll excuse us, Corner, we need to do something." I snap impatiently and Parvarti folds her arms, looking livid.

"Don't speak to Mikey like that!" (Mikey?) "And I didn't say you could explore our flat!" she snarls, tugging at her long, silky black hair.

"Back off," Hannah says angrily, "Romilda had no right to buy those potions for any purpose at all. She's an evil cow and frankly, I don't know why you're friends with someone like that."

Parvarti says nothing for a moment, before saying in a considerably smaller voice "Her room, second drawer under the tissue paper."

With a gleeful smirk, Hannah, Luna and I parade into Romilda's bedroom while Hermione nibbles her nails and declines Parvarti's reluctant offer of tea.

It is honestly the most horrible thing I have seen since her face.

Bright raspberry-pink walls are plastered with pictures of Harry, playing Quidditch, smiling, (AND the one of me and him from Rita Skeeter's magazine article only I have been rudely edited out).

Her bed is a large king-size contraption with pink hangings of Harry and pinned at the head is a small white sheet. A "to-do" list.

_Romilda Vane's Things To Do_

_1. Kill Ginny Weasley (aka the yucky ginger brat)_

_2. Romance my beloved *Harry*_

_3. Become his girlfriend, fiancee and wife_

_4. Do NOT have kids with him (ruin my figure and SHARE him with little brats?)_

_5. Torture the yucky ginger brat and her equally yucky family - PLUS THE GRANGER GIRL_

"How mean," Luna says thoughtfully, "ignore it Ginny, she's clearly under the influence of a Hooting Squiggler."

I scowl. "YUCKY GINGER BRAT!"

Hannah jumps at my shout and anger flickers in her eyes. "Let's destroy those potions." she says furiously, eyes locking onto Romilda's hot-pink bedside table and pulling the drawers open with such "enthusiasm" a whole bunch of letters come tumbling out.

As Hannah tosses various items aside including pink thongs and a book called "Invading In Their Relationship - He's Yours" by some dreadful witch going by the name of _Lovelia Nosie, _I scan the letters.

"Ha! Listen to this," I laugh hysterically, "Romilda sent Lavender a letter saying she had b-b-bought Harry a-a-a golden ch-chain identical to R-Ron-n's!"

As Luna giggles and Hannah roars with laughter, Hermione suddenly appears in the doorframe.

"I heard Lavender and Ron's names mentioned," she says suspiciously, eyebrows climbing into her hair as she absorbs Romilda's painfully pink room.

"It's nothing, Wrackspurts must be messing with your head." answers Luna innocently, as Hannah gives a roar of triumph and produces three glass bottles with a coincidentally pink bubbling liquid inside.

"Three out of fifty," reminds Hermione, entering properly, "and I'll bet anything Parvarti's being stingy with the details. The rest are hidden here somewhere, I'm sure of it. Disguised too, Romilda can be cunning when she wants and I'm surprised she isn't in Slytherin..."

Hannah nods and before we can stop her yanks the potions from the floor and shouts "_Reducto_!" causing them to shatter and leak the pink liquid over the magenta carpet; luckily it is undistinguishable.

"Find the rest," instructs Hermione, "look for anything strange or out of place. Here, there's a hairbrush with pink hairs on it. I bet if I use _Finite Incantatem _on it it will morph into a vial with love potion in it. It even smells like spearmint toothpaste...fresh parchment...clean grass...oh, and the unmistakeable scent of...ocean spray. She's using Amortentia."

I raise my eyebrows; Ron uses ocean spray cologne and shampoo.

As Hermione uses the spell on the hairbrush (and true to her word it morphs into a pink vial) we hunt around the room fruitlessly.

My eyes suddenly rest on a little pink mouse (resembling Romilda) and I immediately use the incantation on it; the toy swells and then I'm looking at a triangular transparent glass bottle filled to the brim with frothy blossom coloured liquid.

Ten minutes later, we've hunted down thirty of the potions disguised as; toys; hair accessories; (of which there were a lot of) ornaments; Knuts, Sickles and Galleons; pillows and even one of her precious posters.

Just to be fun, I drew a cute red-headed girl on her favourite Harry picture (this one was framed in a gold encasing and had the words "my beloved" engraved on the top) planting a kiss on his cheek in Everlasting Ink.

* * *

><p>"Goodbye." Parvarti's crisp response sparks anger in Hermione's eyes.<p>

"You tell your friend Lavender if she goes near my husband again I will literally burn that chain into pieces and send it to her in an envelope along with some Bubotuber Pus." she growls, a hand resting protectively on her stomach.

Luna hides a smirk behind her hand and Hannah sniggers loudly.

"Bye, and don't forget to tell Vane darling we dropped by. Oh, and if she's going to be two-faced, to at least make _one _of them pretty." I smile sickeningly sweetly and we leave, making sure to slam the door behind us.

"Thirty down." Luna says happily as we trudge back down the street.

"Twenty to go," Hermione reminds us, her fists still clenched from her vicious snap at Parvarti.

"Let's go back to our's and have a drink, we've deserved it," I suggest, "and before you say anything Hermione Ron finally got around to buying some special pregnancy drink, Fruitility Potion. If you're pregnant it tastes like your favourite fruit, if not like mouldy cheese."

Hermione smiles prettily and we Disapperate, a warm feeling spreading through my body. 

* * *

><p>"Where are the other thirty?" demands Hannah, sipping her weakened Firewhisky (mixed with cranberry juice and topped with clumps of ice).<p>

"They'll be around somewhere," Luna says confidently, a dreamy smile spreading across her cheeks, "Romilda's not very clever, or she would have realised Harry was meant for Ginny."

I feel my cheeks on fire as Hermione answers.

"I suspect she'll have planted them in places that are special to her," she explains, draining her glass of the Fruitility Potion. "Mmm...peach..."

"What places are special to evil plotters like her?" wonders Hannah, licking her lips.

"It's like Voldemort and the Horcruxes," Hermione explains, and Hannah flinches at the name automatically, "he put them in places special to him, as remainders of his childhood. Hogwarts for example. So think about it...all the places where Romilda and Harry have interacted."

"Where's that?" I frown, staring into my own glass. "Could be anywhere!"

"Well...I distinctly remember Harry telling me a year ago he was ambushed by a load of fangirls being lead by Romilda - they cornered him near Florean Fortescue's ice cream stall one afternoon and she was about to snog him when he Disapperated." announces Hermione.

"She might have put some in the ice cream!" shriek Hannah and I. "Everyone will be infected with Romilda-itis!"

Hermione giggles. "No, think about it. If she did that, as you say everyone would love her and she'd make no progress with Harry seeing as he only has a sweet-tooth for treacle tart and all those boys not to mention girls would be following her around like lovesick puppies as she does to Harry and he does to Ginny!"

"He does not follow me around!" I argue, causing Hermione, Luna and Hannah to exchange knowing looks.

"Well anyway, I think checking out Florean Fortescue's ice cream stall would be useful," Hermione tells us as she summons more Fruitility Potion with her wand, "I expect she'll have hidden them disguised as flowers or something on one of the tables."

Luna nods serenely. "Yes, a very sneaky thing to do...Hannah and I will do that." she flashes Hannah a happy smile and they hi-five.

"Ginny, you and I have two options...you go and spend time with your boyfriend before he notices your absence and I go to the headquarters of HJPFC where I guarentee she will have hidden about ten or you come with me."

"I am _not _stepping a foot into that place," I shudder and Hermione bites her lip, "it is the most evil place on earth filled with pathetic harpies that have no lives. But you can't go on your own, so I will accompany you...to the door."

"I don't really want to go either," agrees Hermione, "it sounds ghastly."

I swallow. "It looks like we will have to enter Enemy Headquarters. We are the resistance, Hermione and Ginny, against Crazy Fangirls."

Hermione nods gravely.

"It might be filled with mini-Romilda's!" I cry out in angst. "The world's worst nightmare!"

Hermione grins. "There there, Ginny, there there. It's ok."

Gulp. Enemy Headquarters, here I come...

Romilda Vane made a mistake the day she brought upon herself the wrath of Ginny Weasley; she crossed a line no other has dared to cross.

Nobody gets one up on _me_. 

* * *

><p>Ah. I feel bad. Haven't updated in about four days. Sorry guys.<p>

I am revising like crazy for the November tests my school has; it's a bit hectic so I don't have as much free time; they don't finish until this Friday but I will _try _and update before then.

The tests are really driving me crazy! Sorry about this.

**REVIEW** please! They make my day!

Love you guys :)  
>~RRK<p> 


	9. Panic, Pain and Personal Grudges

_Disclaimer: _As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid.

_Rating: _Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+

_Summary: _Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls whilst falling for Ginny, fast.

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks.

RRK

P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me.

Hermione and I are scared. Very very scared.

We are about to enter a building filled with crazy obsessed girls. I am very very unhappy right now.

"Come on," says Hermione anxiously, a hand on her stomach absent-mindedly. "If we nip in and out, we should stay alive..."

I snort and with the usual loud _crack_, my stomach clenches and the breath catches in my throat as we find ourselves standing in front of a load of bushes.

"Where the hell are we?" I ask, eyes bulging like a frog as my hair blows frantically around in the wind.

"Headquarters," Hermione answers briskly, "a friend of a friend is a member and she told me where it is in case I wanted to join." Surprisingly _she _manages to keep a straight face.

"How do we get in?" I ask stupidly. Crafty Romilda and her harpies.

"Spell." Hermione tells me, whipping out her wand as the lush green leaves slap me in the face.

I stare with awe and wonder and disgust as she mutters an incantation and the leaves crunch, crinkle, turn a hot pink and slowly unattach themselves from eachother, revealing a massive building.

Can you guess what colour it is? Well done. Pink.

"Oh my bloody-"

"Shut up Ginny! They might hear you, be quiet." Hermione hisses, and with another nervous alarmed glance behind me, I allow her to tug me inside the Place of Doom. The leaves give sudden hisses and join together with such force I jump about a mile in the air.

"We're traaaaaapped!" I wail. My last means of escape! GONE!

"Don't be a drama queen," scolds Hermione, wagging her finger at me as we trudge up to the building, my fingers scratching a groove into my damp palm.

The door has an enormous picture of my boyfriend plastered over it, with little hearts coming out from his MOUTH and they've enchanted it so he blows a kiss at the picture; how pathetic.

Hermione presses a large, shiny white button and immediately a honeyed voice rasps out of nowhere.

"Welcome Harry-lovers to HJPFC. Please tell us your name, the three top reasons we all love Harry and of course, the pledge of Harry."

I raise my eyebrows. Some people are crazy. This is seriously scaring me now.

"Name - Francesca Botts. Top three reasons - he is the amazing gorgeous boy who lived, he loves us all and he does that super cute flicky thing with his hair. Pledge of Harry. We promise to love Harry James Potter as long as we shall live, forever more we shall worship him in our headquarters and fall at his knees whenever he walks by. We pledge our hearts to him and know that he gave his today for our tomorrow. We love our Harry." Hermione drawls in a fake American voice, causing me to laugh out loud.

_Pledge of Harry. _I am very, very scared right now.

This whole thing is ridiculously strange and worrying.

"Correct answer. Please enter, Francesca Botts." the syrupy voice choruses, and the huge shell-pink doors thrust open, revealing a large reception area, where there are two magenta stalls, one with a witch (though if they were all witches they would be able to take a spell for obsession and craziness) jabbering away on a cream-white phone and nibbling daintily at a chocolate bar, whose slogan is _Made with no sugar, because we need to look good for our Boy-Who-Lived! _and the name of the brand that made it is _Pottersweet_.

The other bright pink stall that hurts my eyes so much I could die right now is occupied by a moderately good looking witch, with very fluffy blonde hair and heart shaped lips coloured sticky pale pink, with a name label saying _Theresa. _To my horror, a huge white board is above our heads, with names of witches:

_Our top ten Harry worshippers this week!_

_1. Romilda Vane_

_2. Romilda Vane_

_3. Romilda Vane_

_4. Romilda Vane  
><em>_  
>5. Romilda Vane<em>

6. _Romilda Vane_

_7. Romilda Vane_

_8. Romilda Vane_

_9. Romilda Vane_

_10. Romilda Vane_

_This week Romilda has played a crucial part in GROTGB! Well done to our wonderful manager!_

"

What is grot-gub?" I question Hermione, who looks sheepish as we trudge to Theresa's desk.

"Uh...get rid of the ginger brat." mumbles Hermione, flushing red.

"WHAT?"

"Ssh!" Hermione hisses. "Do you want them to uncover us?"

I growl, in agony from the pink-attack as Theresa suddenly notices us and flips her fluffy dandelion hair forwards and back.

"Hello!" she cooes in a sickeningly sweet voice, like maple syrup, "names please! And business!"

Hermione is clearly biting back a scowl and a nice juicy hex like I am because she grits her teeth instead of matching Theresa's smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Francesca Botts and Guest." she answers crisply. "We want to see Romilda Vane."

"Miss Vane is out right now," the assistant pleasantly, "but she will be back in about ten minutes. Please go up to our wonderful new cafe and have a cup of cocoa! We just bought new mugs with Harry's face on them!"

Hermione suddenly turns very green and I scowl at a passing girl with very short, glossy black hair who is carrying a pile of documents (probably about stalking my boyfriend's every move, mind) causing her to drop them in alarm.

"You look like that Ginger Brat!" she shrieks as Theresa hurries over to help her with the documents.

"She couldn't possibly be, Mercedes!" scolds the latter furiously, scooping up the precious documents, "don't be ridiculous! And be more careful with Harry's timetables!"

Hermione looks as if she might fall over in shock and disbelief as I resist the urge to rip up the papers and shove them down Theresa's throat.

Mercedes glares at me and snatches the papers from Theresa.

"She _does _look like the yucky Ginger Brat." she says crossly, stalking off.

"Cafe is up the stairs and to the right." Theresa says slowly, observing my features and scrutinising me carefully.

Hermione grabs me and tugs me up the stairs.

"Ginny! You can't attract attention to yourself." she says in a hostile whisper. "I'm scared they'll eat us alive!"

"Let's go! I am not stepping one foot into their horrendous cafe," I snarl, "I'm sick of seeing Harry's magnified features in this rotten stinking place! Let's search Vane Darling's office and go home."

Hermione nods in agreement so instead of turning right into the cafe, I pull her to the left, casting occasional glances at the artwork of Harry and whitewashed walls. There's a smell of Dolores Umbridge's perfume, a very pink element about it. I gag and throw open the first door I find.

Inside are two more witches, both wearing ugly brown skirts and very tight, clingy black strappy tops that clash hideously. One has bright, dyed red hair, not "ginger" red or "dark ginger" red like mine, but properly dark blood coloured. It makes her pale green eyes, outlined in thick black eyeliner look bulging and gawping.

The other has straight honey blonde hair, a long, thin nose and sucked in cheeks. They both have large Harry-mugs clasped in their hands and are sitting on desks next to two pink laptops, clearly absorbed in conversation.

"So I said, Romilda, Harry isn't just yours...!"

"I bet, she, like, totally, like got, like angry." replies the henna-red witch, before seeing me.

"Oh! New members?" her finely plucked eyebrows are raised.

"No." I say defiantly before Hermione can make something up, "certainly not. Why would I associate myself with a load of loonies like you?"

Appalled, the blonde finds her tongue. "How, like, rude, like!"

Hermione sniggers loudly. "Please speak the language properly, or at least _try _to sound intelligent."

Both witches' faces harden. "Get out of here." the henna-red speaks clearly and coldly.

"Hmmph!" sniffs the blonde. "First Romilda pushing us around, mooning over OUR Harry and making a fuss out of everything, now you!"

Hermione scowls and opens her mouth, however I pull her away with a huge grin on my face - to our left is a locked bright pink door saying "HJPFC MANAGER'S OFFICE- ROMILDA VANE.

Leaving the indignant gossiping minions alone, Hermione uses the Alohamora charm on the door and luck is on our side as it clicks open.

If you thought her bedroom was hell, try coming here.

Only one word can describe it - REVOLTING.

Pink leather sofas, pink mugs, pink desk, pink walls, pink pens, pink paper, pink cakes, pink lists, pink furnishings, pink EVERYTHING.

Posters of Harry are predictably plastered over the walls in all their glory, beaming down at me, and it smells suspiciously of how someone's Quidditch shirt would smell if they had just played.

How disgustingly revoltingly appallingly shockingly-

"Ginny!" Hermione gives an excited squeal as she holds out five pink vials filled with appropriately coloured liquid frothing gently.

I grin and give her the thumbs up before snatching them and chucking them out of the open window, pink curtains gently slapping my cheeks.

There's a satisfying smash and Hermione's mouth curves into a pretty, genuine smile.

Five minutes later and five more have been discovered, smashed and foul looking delicious Harry-smelling pink stuff leaks out onto the crusted tarmac outside.

You have to laugh.

Flustered, frustrated and exhausted, Hermione collapses in a heap on the floor, panting heavily.

"Are you ok?" I ask, alarmed, drinking in her sweaty brow. She's only four months along...

"F-fine!" Hermione smiles reassuringly, but it fails to convince me.

"I don't think so, let me call Ron and we'll get you to St. Mungo's for a check-up." I instruct her, but before I can use Romilda's (pink) Floo Powder, there's a creak and we both whip around, eyes whirling crazily, hearts thumping frantically.

"Hello ladies."

"Romilda." I hiss furiously, my wand at the ready.

"Now now Ginny-kins, I wouldn't do that if you want your snotty know-it-all here to save that lump in her stomach." Romilda cackles, her dark, curly hair like a mane around her spiteful ugly face. (Maybe I am biased. But she is ugly.)

"You - will - not - touch - my - baby." wheezes Hermione, wiping her forehead in angst and fury.

"Who can stop me?" Romilda says innocently, and she flicks her wand, causing the door to slam and lock.

"_Expelliarmus_!" I shriek, but Romilda just laughs as nothing happens.

"How stupid do you think I am?" she smirks.

"A pretty girl can kiss a guy a bird can kiss a butterfly the rising sun can kiss the grass, but you, VAIN, yes YOU, can KISS MY ASS!" I yell, veins throbbing, fury shooting through my body like a Hippogriff-

"No magic will work in here!" Romilda snarls. "I disabled it for anyone but me...used the Imperius curse on that idiot Longbottom ages ago, he knew how to! Now BEG for mercy!"

"Never!" I shriek. I think I have gone crazy.

"Ginny!" squeals Hermione, clearly in agony. "The BABY! It's hurting!"

Panic floods my brain like blood and I stare into the enemy's eyes, boring my livid feelings into them.

"Let. Us. Go."

Romilda lets out a laugh - it never fails to irritate me.

Her smirk is still etched upon her face like Everlasting Ink, the triumph in her dark eyes is legible to those who look closely enough and I clench my fists.

"Let Hermione go to the hospital - I'll get my brother and then you can kill me!" I lie. Because FYI, she is not going to kill me. She hasn't got enough brains.

"No! That - that _whore _stole Won from Lavender!" Romilda screeches, nasal voice piercing my ears like an icy cold knife.

"Don't you _dare _call her that you two-faced little coward!" I shout angrily, "Hermione is the best friend you could have and my brother would NEVER love a cow like Lavender! Now LET HER GO BEFORE I HEX YOU INTO OBLIVION AND ENJOY IT!"

"GINNY! I THINK THE BABY-"

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><p><strong>I am mean, aren't I? Yeah, sorry about that. :)<strong>

**Update soon, maybe tomorrow. Most of the tests are DONE! :) YIPEEEE! Now I can write for my wonderful amazing kind brilliant REVIEWERS!**

**Please REVIEW! thanks, hope you enjoyed!**


	10. Captured, Confused,Consequently Crazy

_Disclaimer: As you very well know, Harry Potter is not mine. But I wish it was. 'Cause then I'd be a rich kid._

_Rating: Would it KILL you to look up and see for yourself? Yes? Fine, it's K+_

_Summary: Ginny Weasley, twenty one, crazy and paranoid, mixed with a diary that holds all her thoughts and emotions that are mainly based around a certain twenty two year old hearthrob, Harry Potter. Trouble is, he's caught the eye of some fangirls while falling for Ginny..._

_Fred is NOT dead in this story. I refuse to kill Fred because it is just too sad for me to do! Also I forgot to mention Tonks and Remus are not dead either, like I said, I can't do it._

_Enjoy and please review! For those of you reading What If? And Harrio and Ginniette, I will update soon but I've been writing this story for a while and wanted to post it. Please don't favourite without reviewing because I want to know what you have to say about it not just if you like it. Thanks._

_RRK_

_P.S I know it's OOC. No need to tell me._

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><p>Ok.<p>

I am very unhappy right now.

Why, you ask? What could I, girlfriend of Harry Potter, member of The Order of the Phoneix and Playwizard's top witch of the month got to be unhappy about? (Not that I check the magazine or anything.)

Hmm. A crazy bitch has taken me and my pregnant (not to mention hysterical) best friend hostage in her psycho fan club building.

"ROMILDA VANE YOU LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!" Hermione yells at the top of her lungs, sweat trickling down her face like blood.

Romilda's evil expression doesn't soften; it simply hardens and she gets a steely look in her dark eyes.

"That brat with a Mudblood mother doesn't stir my sympathies." Romilda hisses, and it takes everything I have not to thrust my fist into her smug face.

Maybe just a little punch? A tiny one?

"Don't you dare call me or my child that." Hermione's got fire in her eyes as she says this, before giving another scream of pain.

"LET HERMIONE GO!" I yell at Romilda. "I'M THE ONE YOU WANT, YOU JEALOUS B-"

"Ha! I don't think so! Lavender should be here any minute and the last part of our plan shall be complete." Romilda smirks, twirling her greasy hair around her long, sharp fingernails.|

My stomach immediately drops. "What plan?"

Before she can answer, there's a knock at the door and my hopes are crushed - it's Lavender, looking nice and trampy in a low cut purple dress, slathered in make-up and wearing heels way too high to be classified as shoes. More like daggers.

I want to stick them in her face.

"Rommy, got the potion?" Lavender asks silkily, shooting Hermione a hateful glare.

"Sure have Lavvy."

Ok, now I feel sick. _Rommy. Lavvy._

What has happened to the sane people in this world?

Lavender flicks her frizzy caramel hair over one shoulder and pulls from her bra two potions, causing her chest to shrink considerably. How revolting.

The potions are clear, colourless concotions and look suspiciously like Poly-

"Polyjuice Potion almost complete, we need the hair now." Lavender snarls, sending malicious glances at Hermione.

"YOU ARE NOT GETTING MY HAIR!" I shout, eyes whirling crazily. "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU LUNATIC WEIRDO!"

"Now now Ginny," Romilda steps closer to me, eyes narrowed. "Calm down _Ginevra, _it will only hurt for a moment...oh but then there's when I get Harry to break up with you and date _me _instead. Or I could keep you locked up here and keep stealing your hair, but I don't want to look like a speckled ginger freak forever. And Lav doesn't want to be a Mudblood either."

Hermione clenches her fists but before we can both attack them, Romilda waves her dark choclate coloured wand and ropes spring out of nowhere, thrusting themselves around our arms and legs. Another flick of the wand and I'm chained to the floor.

"You won't get away with this!" Hermione shrieks, so Lavender adds a gag.

Panic rises in my chest as she gives another shriek of pain. "Please let her go...she's pregnant...please."

Lavender laughs. "Yeah, with _my _Ronnie's baby!"

"He is NOT yours!" I bellow. "He NEVER loved you and NEVER will!"

"Won-Won will be mine at last," Lavender ignores my comment. "Rommy, take the hair."

I can't do anything, helpless, as Romilda yanks a strand of dark red hair and smiles sweetly. "Thank you _so _much for your donation!"

I struggle, kick and attempt to scream as Romilda drops it into one potion and it turns a vibrant crimson and Lavender snatches some of my best friend's hair, causing her potion to turn a pretty lilac colour.

"To being clever." Romilda says smugly, and glugs the whole lot down. Before I know it, I'm staring at myself, except in a hideous outfit.

She is wearing MY HAIR! AND MY EYES! AND MY NOSE! AND MY FACE! AND MY-

"Let's go. See you later...or not." Romilda snorts, hi-fives Lavender and they leave, careful to lock the door behind them.

A tear slips down my cheek and I stare at Hermione desperately.

"Hermione, it's going to be ok." I promise, my voice wavering slightly. "I promise. Just breathe..."

Hermione nods and struggles; a muffled scream breaks out from the black strip covering her mouth.

We're doomed...Hermione's baby...think Ginny, think!

But I can't think; my mind is clogged with thoughts of dying in enemy headquarters, Hermione having a miscarriage, Harry snogging Romilda...

The tears come heavily now, pouring like rain, and Hermione's cheek has a wet sheen to it as she sniffs uncontrollably.

"Breathe...it's ok." I plead, convincing myself as well as her. "Rose is going to be fine."

Desperately, I scan the horrific pink office, desperate for signs of escape. Something, somewhere...please...

Hermione's Muggle phone!

"Hermione, do you have your mobile?" I ask, voice cracked, one tiny shred of hope left in my eyes, stomach clenched, heart banging inside my chest...

She shakes hysterically. No...

Please, please let Harry find us...or Ron...

My head is aching from where that crazy bitch stole my hair, throat sore from crying and my whole body is shaking as if I'm having a cardiac arrest.

_Think, Ginny, think for Hermione...for Rose...for Ron..._

There's only one thing I can think of to do. Scream.

"HELP! HELP! HELP!"

My hoarse, pathetic cries probably bounce off the door - Romilda has clearly put up a Muffliato charm...

_Non verbal spells...but magic doesn't work in here...try it anyway..._

"_Levicorpus!_" springs to mind, and I focus every cell in my brain on it, and to my immense surprise Hermione shoots into the air, suspended by her chains, struggling madly, tears seeping down her cheeks.

"Oh Merlin!" I cry out. _Liberacorpus!_

Hermione floats gently to the ground like a feather. Non verbal-spells work! MWUAHAHAHA!

But Accio, which will summon Romilda's terrifying bright pink phone, isn't non-verbal...

Maybe if I launch MYSELF high enough, the chains will break!

"Don't be stupid Ginny!" I yell at myself - then realise how idiotic I must sound.

Think of Romilda and Harry snogging...Lavender and Ron...

_LEVICORPUS!_

I suddenly launch myself into the air at such high speed I hit my head, the chains break and a hot red liquid seeps from a gash on the side of my head...blood.

Gasping and spluttering, tears mixed with blood, I stagger over to the phone and punch in Hermione's mobile number. With any luck it will be at our flat and Ron will pick it up...

_Please pick up, Ron..._

"Hello?"

Thank Merlin's beard. Thank everything. It's Ron. His voice has never sounded so amazing to me as it does right now.

"Ron," I croak hoarsely, "help..."

"Ginny? Are you ok? Where's Hermione?" Ron is starting to panic now, his voice filled with concern and worry.

"Captive...baby...help...Romilda...get Luna...Hannah." I can barely talk as the blood dribbles more thickly down my head, eyes start to close, drowsiness overtaking me.

My brain greedily soaks up the blackness, cutting me off.

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><p><em>"Ginny..."<em>

My mind is fuzzy, clogged with weird thoughts, emotions and blurry pictures.

"Open your eyes. Please." the voice is masculine, filled with concern, even LOVE if my senses aren't completely messed up due to a certain ROMILDA VANE.

I know this voice, I'm sure, because when I hear it butterflies start flapping around in my stomach.

My eyes slowly lift open, to see the brightest, most beautiful emerald eyes I've ever witnessed, behind two small glass plates.

"Hermione...the baby..." it's coming back to me now.

I'm in a pink room...Romilda's room...

"Get me out of here!" I yell hysterically. "Polyjuice baby! Flying chains! PINK! EVERYWHERE!"

"Slow down," Harry says calmly, "Hermione and the baby are perfectly fine, she wasn't getting enough protein and all that medical crap, she and the baby are as healthy as ever now. Ron rounded up Luna, Hannah and me and with their help we found this place..."

"Did she snog you?" I question, almost scowling in spite of myself. "How did you know it wasn't me?"

"Only you're allowed to snog me." Harry smiles, kissing me sweetly on the lips; fireworks explode again. "When she started saying I was a scrawny speccy git and cooing over everything pink I had my doubts...Ron said shortly after you went dead on the phone 'Hermione' got to his flat and started yelling at him. Even he realised something was up!"

Relief floods my body. "Head...hurts..."

"Oh bloody hell, are you alright?" Harry's eyes widen alarmingly. "I can't believe that Vane sunk this low...I'm so sorry you got wrapped up in this, really I am. If there's anything I can do..."

"Yeah there is..." I smile dreamily... "snog the living daylights out of me."

Needless to say, he obliged.

(After healing my gash. TAKE THAT VANE.)

P.S, if you are Romilda, here's a little message from me:

YOU BACKSTABBING LITTLE GREASY EVIL BIT-

Oh. Harry wants to snog. Ok. That can wait. I will seek revenge tomorrow.

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><p><strong>I'm aware this is short and has been long-awaited, so sorry about that! I'm doing another chapter to finish, to finish off Romilda Vane once and for all...tune in and don't forget to REVIEW! thanks<strong>

love you all :)

RRK

PS thanks to my regular reviewers like PotterFan4Ever! I'm reading your story Life As We Used To Know It, bloody amazing. :)


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